


The Secrets the Forest Keeps from Us

by Red Dead Intervention (AcademySenseiIruka)



Series: The Secrets we tell the Forest [3]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur gets to be a dad, But Arthur has a crush, Canon-Typical Violence, Chartur, Childhood Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everybody Lives, F/M, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Gen, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Isaac Whump, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Recovery, Slow Burn, Trust the Tags Not the Author, Whump, on Charles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2020-03-09 06:50:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 21,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18911755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcademySenseiIruka/pseuds/Red%20Dead%20Intervention
Summary: Arthur thought he knew what really happened.





	1. Chapter 1

"Mr Morgan." the doctor said coming out of his mother's room. "You can go in now."

the boy pulled on the cigarette he held between his teeth before subbing it out on the wall of the old rundown shack they lived in.

His heavy footfalls carried him across the room, pausing at the door as the doctor spoke again. "I'm afraid she doesn't have much time. I've tried to make her as comfortable as possible but well, there is nothing more I can do."

The boy turned to the doctor, a fit of simmering anger threatened to explode in his face but the man seemed unaware of the possible threat.

"I have other patients to see today, paying ones. I will need to be on my way." He clipped his bag closed and turned towards the door to leave. "I'll send someone by tomorrow morning to collect the body."

The door creaked open, the door creaked closed.

The boy slowly gathered himself before pressing his open palm to his mother's room door and pushed it open.

She lay on the bed, pale and thin. Her familiar warm eyes were closed and for a moment he feared she was already gone.

"Momma?" he whispered and she forced her eyes open. It looked to be a real struggle.

"My boy." she whispered, raising a hand to beckon him forward. "My beautiful baby boy."

"Momma," Kneeling down next to the bed he grasped his mothers bony hand in his. "I'm hardly a boy anymore." He protested weakly, he couldn't let his mother die thinking he wasn't prepared to be alone in this world. He had to let her know he would be alright but the tremble in his lips couldn't be suppressed and a few teardrops fell, despite how much he blinked them back.

"Oh, it's alright son." she consoled reaching up to try and brush the tears away but she didn't have the strength.

"I'll, I'll be a-alright momma, I want you to know." he looked down at the quilted blanket across her. "I'll be strong, I'll get by."

"I know you will." she said fondly. "You're a lot like your father," she whispered and the boy blanched at the comparison.

"Your father was a good man. And despite what your uncle convinced me of, he loved us both very very much." her words were surprisingly warm.

His mother had been telling him more and more stories about this father since she found out she didn't have much time left.

At first he was angry at the man being constantly mentioned but the more stories she told the more he realized, she was purging herself of some kind of guilt. Some kind of death bed confession.

She sighed deeply, eyes sliding closed as she spoke again. "He and I were so young. Not much older than you are now, when we had you. Tho at first he was shocked when I told him he was the father, he really surprised me by how excited he became." she rolled her head to to side and continued with a soft breathy laugh. "He kept bringing me things every few months. A crib, blankets, food and money. He'd stay for a few days and be gone again. Then he'd come back and bring more money, food and a better crib." she laughed, a motion that sent a shockwave of painful spasms through her body.

As she settled again she opened her eyes. Sad and tearful. "I am so sorry, I took someone away from you who loved you so much." she said.

"It wasn't you." the boy replied, soothingly patting the back of her hand. He reached his other arm up to brush her hair gently as they shared a moment of silence. Her eyes were wet and pleading, begging him to understand something she hadn't ever said before. He could feel the reveal building and he braced himself for some devastating surprise.

"I have lied to you, and I hope someday you will forgive me... but your father never left us." she whispered "He didn't get bored and he wasn't some useless drunk like your uncle says. He was a good man who ran with a man named Dutch Van Der Linde. I want you to remember that name."

She swallowed, turning her head as a racking cough cascaded through her body. A rattling breath filled the room and for a moment the boy thought he was witnessing her last breath.

"Isaac, I need you to promise me you won't stay here with your uncle once I'm gone. Promise me." she spoke around a gasping breath, tho her eyes brightened as he nodded his compliance. "

"A course mama." he whispered not trusting himself to say much more.

"You are, remarkably a lot like your father, you look so much like him. You should have had him in your life, but instead, I allowed your uncle to convince me he was dangerous, that he didn't really love either of us. I, I thought I was protecting you when I agreed to fake our deaths... to put two fake graves in our back yard." She began to cry at the memory passed through her mind. "then he told those in town we were killed for 10 dollars and we moved to live with him... It didn't take long for me to find out it was the worst thing I have ever done and I've regretted it ever since. But seeing the man my brother has become, I won't let you say here with him. Look under the dresser, son. Please, quickly."

He rushed over to the old withered furniture and reached under. He was about to say nothing was there when his hand bumped into some sort of bulky cloth. He pulled it out to find a bag coins.

"I want you to take that and go. GO far away and find your father. Please, promise me."

"Mom!" he shouted, devastation fogging his mind. "We could have used this money for medicine, we could save you!"

"No!" she tried sitting up but without any strength, she just lay flat. "Promise me you'll take the money and RUN!"

"You useless whore." a slurred voice boomed as the door to the room was shoved open. "I knew you had money, you lazy bitch!"

The boy shrunk back against the wall, clutching the bag as his uncle slunk forward. The uncoordinated gate of an alcoholic.

"Gimme, that you little shit." his hand flapped expecting the purse to be handed over immediately.

But this was his mothers, "No," he said firmly.

"Don't you dare hurt my boy!" His mother screamed as his uncle lunged for him. His inebriated reflexes sharper than the boy expected. he found himself on the ground the bag torn open, as his uncle pulled out his pistol and began beating him with the handle.

"NOO!" He heard his mother sobbing as he curled up on the floor. A bloody gash dripping into his eyes and more blows plowed into him. He couldn't prepare for the next onslaught, just coiled protectively in on himself like he always did.

"I said, don't touch HIM!" His mother roared. Somehow she had managed to get out of bed and threw herself at her brother.

He shoved her off and she hit the floor heavily. Her head smacking especially hard. "You thief!" he accused lumbering over to her and Isaac saw white.

He lunged at his uncle with a strength he didn't know he possessed.

He had often imagined a time where he could get his revenge for the many beatings he'd received from this man but at this moment there was no joy or relief like he expected. It was all raw animalistic furry. His fists collided rapidly till a well of blood dripped from the man's mouth and nose, his eyes were beginning to swell shut but still, the boy didn't stop. This was years of not being able to defend himself or his mother against this monster.

The man lay still and Isaac wasn't finished. His arms grew tired as he continued to bash the man's head in. It wasn't until he heard the movements of his mother that he stopped. Fists dripping red as he sat in a pool of blood.

She was crying.

And Isaac realized what he must look like. A mad man, a murderer.

Slowly he climbed off his uncle, keeping his movements slow and non-threatening. He cautiously approached, pulling his mother into a hug. She sagged against him quivering, clutching him as tightly as her frail broken body was capable.

"I am so sorry momma." He whispered against her hair as he began to gently rock back and forth, attempting to soothe her.

She clutched him tighter. "Look for a man named Dutch Van Der Linde... find him and you will find your father, Arthur Morgan... I, I just know he loves you very, veryy.."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BAAAACK!!!

The force of the impact had caused an internal brain bleed and Isaac could do nothing to stop the hemorrhage. He could only watch and panic as blood dripped from his mother's ears. He passed a gentle hand brushing her hair out of her face and he trembled as he watched her fade. The pupil in her left eye was blown wide and inky black. The right seemed to dim as her gaze slid from Isaac's face. Slack, unfocused and distant.

He clung to the limp body of his mother as he sobbed. Open and wild, covered in blood. His broken heart scattered around him like the fallen coins of his mother's last gift.

He wailed and roared in agony, angry and afraid.

Long moments passed where his body shuttered as if touched by a cold brutal wind. Finally, he steeled himself and prepared a plan.

The first thing Isaac did was to place his mother's body back on the bed. The second was to dump his uncle's useless corps behind the house and unburdened it of his pistols and gun belt. Halfway through Isaac caught a glimpse of the bashed-in face of his former relative, the bloodied sight causing him to double over puking.

Coming back into the house he washed the blood off his hands. Then he methodically gathered his things, slowly and numb as the doctors promise flowed relentlessly through his mind like a mantra. "I'll be sending someone to pick up the body in the morning." That was only a few hours away at this point and Isaac had to be gone long before anyone came.

Isaac went to the closet and pulled out a blanket, thin and thread barren from when he was a baby but it would serve its purpose. He unrolled it and filled it with clothing and food before folding it up int a tube and wrapping it closed with a rope. He tied the ends together and threw it around one shoulder like a bandoleer.

He scoured the room looking for loose coins for several minutes. Checked the keepsake box and found a picture of him and his mother and tucked it in his pocket. He filled his uncle's saddlebags with food and medical supplies.

He paused at the doorway, taking one last glance around to survey the home he would never see again. He looked to his mother's prone form. Stilled of all movement with new death, and he left.

His uncle's horse waited outside. It was a horse he had always wanted but wasn't allowed to touch, ironic that he was now in possession of it. A beautiful 17 hands high reverse dapple black Stallion thoroughbred named Harlin.

The horse was old, 25... older than him by a lot. Age aside, the animal was still the finest things their family had ever owned.

With one final lingering glance back towards his home he allowed a moment of regret. Not for killing a man but not being able to bury his mother. He pulled at the reign and kicked the horse up into a high gallop. Leaving behind any chance of being found innocent of his crime. He was now an outlaw, just like his father.

He used his mother's stories as a guide for the beginning of his travels. Heading southwest towards Mexico. and paid close attention to town gossip along the way. Eager to pick up on hearsay of the locals.

The opinion of the Van Der Linde gang was conflicted. Some saw them as a Robin Hood band, outlaws with a noble purpose. Others classified them as a scourge of society. The lowest form of humanity. Isaac wasn't in the position to judge, so he didn't.

He spent the remainder of his time carrying out odd jobs for anyone who paid. Catching chickens for an old lady, mucking out stalls at the stables. All to earn a few precious coins so he could gamble them on a thick newspaper. Betting it may hold more clues for the whereabouts of his father.

Unfortunately for him, after the Blackwater massacre, the gang had kept a low profile.

He rationed his coins and food, kept his new pistol in better condition than his uncle ever had. He practiced with it occasionally but it was his horse that was his pride and joy. Any spare change went to spoiling the stallion.

It wasn't until several months later, coin purse and stomach almost empty, that he received his first real lead on the elusive Van Der Linde gang. LAST SEEN OUTSIDE OF VALINTINE the headline read.

Isaac greedily tore open the fresh paper, eyes rapidly flashing through the article as he meandered stiffly over to lean against a nearby fence. He devoured it's contents faster than any paper yet and his excitement blossomed as he realized Valintine was only a few days ride. His excitement peaked further when he read the sighting of Dutch Vander Linde was reported by several credible witnesses. He almost let out a literal 'whoop' when he read this had all happened two days prior.

Isaac felt giddy. An effervescent joy coiled inside of him, threatening to burst. Months of travel and searching and finally he...

"Isaac Montgomery." the Sheriffs voice rumbled and the distinct feel of a rifle muzzle pressed against the small of his back. "Keep your hands where I can see um. You're under arrest for the murder of Eliza and Joseph Montgomery."

Well shit.


	3. Chapter 3

The cell door slammed shut and the key screeched locked as Isaac dropped to the dirty cot, as heavy as his grief. He was so close to finding his father but now he was going to hang instead.

His morose thoughts turned to the likely fate of his horse. Too old for much of anything besides the glue factory.

"damn." he whispered bitterly.

"You're telling me." A thin man from the cell next to him agreed. "What you in er for?"

Isaac continued to stare up at the dusty corner of the shabby cell. "Murder," he admitted. There was no use protesting the charges.

"I see." the man mumbled, drifting to the other side of his cell. "Well, if your gonna just admit it like that, no wonder you got caught."

Isaac's cot cried as he rolled over and sighed, deep and resigned.

He had so far failed at everything in life. Protecting his mother, finding his father. He'd never even done anything noteworthy. He lacked any special talent or redeeming quality. He was truly a waste of space. Isaac let himself drown in his depression as people came in and out of the Sheriff's office. Food without smell was placed on the floor for him but it remained untouched, except by the bold rat who ventured to the middle of the room to feast on the hard bread roll.

A man had entered the office and was chatting amicably with the Sheriff as Isaac began to drift off. Tho a muffled shout had him bolted upright quickly enough. He turned just in time to see a stranger in a black duster pull out a knife and ram it up through the Sheriffs skull, through the fleshy part of the throat.

The barbaric act caused a fountain of red to spray and coat the Sheriff's desk completely. The two men struggled a moment longer till the Sheriff succumbed to his blood loss and grew slack. His eyes, frozen wide, frightened and bulging in shocked horror before collapsing in a puddle of rippling blood.

"Alright fellas." The murder began, stripping himself of the drenched duster and dropping it on the floor with a wet plop. He sauntered over to lean against the bars of their prison, like he owned the place. And for the time being, he did. His mustache hung like an uninspired ball sack and his face was just as appealing.

"How'd you boys like to be millionaires?" he offered. "See, I'm in the market for some loyal recruits to help me get the biggest score of our lives and I need fellas like yourselves." He paused, letting his offer sink in. "I already have-"

"How?" The other inmate ventured recklessly cutting the stranger off.

"Ever hear of the Blackwater money? Well, I know where it is. All you have to do is help me get it by collecting on a few bounties. Then we split the reward and go our separate ways."

"What's the catch?" Isaac asked with suspicious caution.

"No catch, at all. All I want is loyalty. And since I'm here to save your rotten lives from the noose, I don't think that's too much to ask. But I can always offer my help to someone else. To others more grateful for my, hospitality. " He said gesturing to the murdered Sheriff on the floor.

"Good luck with the gallows." he laughed as he turned away.

Isaacs blood turned cold as he realized what the man was after. That there was more at stake than just his life. "The Van Der Linde Gang has the Blackwater money." He challenged.

"Your point kid?"

Isaac was at a loss, if this man left, his father was in danger. A target of this mans greed. He lunged at the cell bars. "Bring me with you! I can shoot and I have a horse. You can keep the Blackwater money, I don't care about any of that." His desperation fed his story and he filtered it enough with the truth so that honest conviction would prove his sincerity. "All I care about is finding Arthur Morgan, the man who killed my mother."

"What's your name boy?" the man asked walking back. His hand slowly pulling out the keys he'd managed to snag off the sheriff's desk.

"Isaac..." He froze, there was no way of knowing how much this man knew about the Van Der Linde gang. Especially if he knew them well enough to know how to get the money. What if this man knew Arthur had had a child with a woman with his last name? If he did, then using his mother's name could get them all killed. So he used a name him mother said was only known to those most trusted inside the Van Der Lind gang. "Killgore."

A shocked expression passed the ugly features, quick as a twitch before settling into a sickly sweet false smile.

The door swung open but the man didn't mover to let Isaac pass.

"All that's left to do is tie up the loose ends. Rule number one of being an outlaw, don't leave any witnesses." He fished out a small bowie knife and slid it into Isaac's slackened palm. "come on boy, don't you want revenge?"

Isaac had killed before but this time it was different. When the cell door opened the man cried and clung to the far wall. Isaac stalked forward and tried to mirror the quick murder of the sheriff. A forceful slice through the trachea, up into the throat. The death wasn't as elegant and practiced as the other mans had been and Isaac tried not to cry as he smothered the sounds of the man's broken sobs and pleas.

Eventually, he stilled, just like the sheriff, his uncle and his mother.

"Well, welcome to the team, my boy." The door swung open and this time Isaac was met with a firm handshake. "Names Micah Bell. Glad to have you, Isaac." Micah grinned and clapped him on the shoulder ushering him out the door. "This your gun?" he asked pointing at the belt hanging up just behind the Sheriff's desk.

"Yeah," he answered softly, his thoughts elsewhere. When he was brought in the Sheriff had confiscated his guns and anything he had on him, including the photo of his mother. As Micah tossed him his pistol a strange numbness seemed to fall over him. He knew he'd never be able to look at his mother's face again, so tightening the belt at his waist, he left the photo behind.

As he escaped into the night, Isaac felt more like a prisoner than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly fought with myself really hard about bringing Micah back. I don't like writing for him but I felt the story needed more closure with his character. So that's why Isaac ended up with him rather than the Pinkertons. (like I had planned in another draft of this story) 
> 
> Fingers crossed you don't hate me for what I've done to poor Isaac. It gets worse before it gets better.
> 
> Also, Arthur will finally show up in ch 4. (tho perhaps not in the way you want him too)


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur Morgan rolled off his cot in the early hours of the morning, ready for the day. He felt refreshed and rested in ways he hadn't felt in months. His chest felt clear and each experimental deep breath had him smiling gratefully, tho only when no one was looking.

The sun was shining and the sky was blue.

Arthur scurried around camp keeping himself busy by doing as many chores he could get his hands on. Anything to prove to the others he was improved enough to where he could FINALLY step foot outside the camp.

He hauled hay barrels to the horses and sacks of grain to Pearson's wagon, he practically had to tackle the ax out of Charles's hand so he could chop wood and tho he had to dial back the peppy spring in his step, he carried the water over to the cart. The resulting wide damp patch on the outside of his leg didn't detract from his mood at all.

He was healthy and happy and the entire camp seemed to feed off his jovial attitude. Even earning a few well-intended monikers from Uncle for his "youthful exuberance."

Pearson's stew even tasted great and he wolfed it down fast enough that Hosea let him have seconds before he even got his first plate.

"I think our boys going stir crazy," Hosea said watching as Arthur polished off the second helping. "Perhaps there's some way we can help?"

Arthur perked up like a bloodhound smelling its favorite treat and Dutch couldn't help but laugh.

"So you're saying we should give him a job to do?" They were playing coy but Arthur didn't care, he was about to get his way.

"Well, doesn't Pearson need supplies from Strawberry?"

"I don't know, perhaps we should ask him?"

Arthurs pride was the only thing that kept him from snapping. He wasn't about to beg like a kid wanting to go on their first mission. So he settled for a healthy glare at his mentors.

"Aw Arthur we're just messing with you." Hosea chided happily. "Heres the list of supplies, I expect you'll take Charles with you."

"I don't need a babysitter," he growled casting a glance over his shoulder to where Charles was drinking his morning coffee with the Girls.

"If history has shown us anything, I think you do. But if you like being the damsel in distress, then by all means, go alone. I'm sure Charles won't mind riding to your rescue again."

"Fine." Arthur relented, his tone portraying a more sour tone then he felt. "I'll ask," he said getting up from the table.

As casually as he could he approached Charles, wiping his hands on his pants as he did so. "Hey, Charles. I'm ah, heading into town, wanna come?" He struggled not to fidget as Charles gave him an assessing glance.

"You sure that's a good idea? You've only been on your feet for a few days now."

"I managed to wrangle the ax out of your hands, didn't I."

Charles smiled, tipping his head in agreement. "Alright, as long as Hosea and Dutch are ok with it."

"It was there Idea, and why does everyone suddenly think I need a nursemaid?"

Charles gave him a poignant stare as they both walked towards the horses. "Because your luck is the worst of all of us."

"If anything it's karma finally catching up with me."

"Karma isn't always bad."

"It is when you do what we do."

"Exactly, what WE do. Yet your the one who gets the TB scare."

"But it didn't turn out to be TB." Arthur pointed out as he slid into the saddle.

"So we're agreed you do have some good Karma?"

"Sawd up," Arthur growled playfully as they rode leisurely towards Strawberry.

Arthur had good memories of Strawberry. Mostly it was Micah in jail but it was a very happy memory. Overall the town was a nice size, quaint and just big enough to have all the supplies they'd need on hand but not so big as to have a huge law presence. Tho it was a bit too close to Blackwater for Arthurs liking. He fished out the list Hosea had given him and headed towards the general store.

It was a relatively short list this week. Strauss and Pearson had put their heads together and scheduled weekly grocery runs to keep huge expensive trips to a minimum. It seemed to be working, tho the food still tasted like shit.

"I'll meet up with you in a bit," Charles said, veering off on his own. "I'm gonna go get a copy of this morning's post and check the mail."

Arthur waved his consent and began gathering the supplies, as well as a few goodies for the others. Like candy for Jack and some honey sticks for Tilly. She secretly loved those things.

As he checked out at the counter he casually opened the catalog and began perusing the available items. He flipped through faster when the cashier was about done totaling up the supplies. Closing it with a well warn flop as the price of the last item was added.

Arthur was about to dig into his pocket for the cash when he saw it. Behind the counter, nestled in a velvet lined case. A gold harmonica. Immediately his thoughts turned to Charles. He could vividly imagine him bringing it to life in the warm glow of the crackling campfire. The beautiful tone he'd be able to create from it. The smile it would bring to Charles's face. Soft, genuine and carefree. Charles would certainly love that he thought wistfully.

"Say how much for that?" he asked.

"Oh, this? We just got it in today." The store clerk said scratching the side of his chin like he had mange. "It was a mistake, should have been sent to Saint Denise but here it is. Finest German-made craftsmanship, real gold too. Beautiful thing, one of a kind man-made. You won't find anything like it ever again." he said sliding the item towards Arthur. "the price is pretty steep tho. $300."

Arthur hummed as he lifted the instrument. Elegant engravings stretched to every available surface. A complex tapestry of ribbons flowed down and around, over and under making the item not just beautiful, but art. Made Arthur wish that even he knew how to play.

Arthur thumbed through his wallet checking how much cash he had on hand. "I can only do 250, that ok?"

"Unfortunately I can not. It's a bargain at that price Mister."

"Alright, understandable," Arthur said, loath to have to place it back in the velvet box. "Maybe some other time." he consoled himself as he paid for his items. "Have a nice evening," he called as he passed through the doors.

Outside he set about finding Charles. His mood dampened further when he saw the deep frown across his face.

"What happened?"

"Went to the post office and found a letter for Dutch... from Micah."

Arthur growled in frustration as he skimmed over the note. "He wants to meet up where we met up with Colm that time."

"There's more," Charles said, his voice dropping. "Don't look, but we're being followed."

Arthur sighed, it was fortunate Charles was here with him since he's probably the only one who would have noticed this.

"This isn't a coincidence Arthur. Whoever is following us knows about the letter."

"You think Micah is scheming some kind of revenge for kicking him out?"

"Maybe. It's your call Arthur. Should we draw them out and take care of them?"

"How many are there?"

"Three I think."

Arthur pondered his options for a moment. Quickly peacing the information he had on hand. "No, I have a better idea."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, I got to write for my boah! This was seriously the first chapter I wrote for this but after writing it I knew I needed Isaac's POV so I went back and filled in the blanks.


	5. Chapter 5

The Bell gang was about what Isaac expected. Ruthless, cutthroats that swore and spit and wrestled with each other as boldly as any man with a death wish. Which was exactly what they all were.

Almost everyone in the camp was a recent addition to the gang. Apparently, Micah's goal was quantity of members over the quality of members. Several were found like he was, saved from hanging by Micah himself. A few may have known Micah from other gangs but the majority were all that remained of the O'Driscol gang. At least that meant there weren't any senior members to answer to, with the exception of Micah of course. Everyone else just sorta fought for their place like wolves in a pack.

Isaac didn't sleep a lick the first night. Anytime his eyes drifted closed he saw a kaleidoscope of bloodied faces. Ones with the heads bashed in or the throats slit. Throats wide and gaping open like goldfish mouths. Tendons and bone, stringy and white, shining starkly against a carpet of scarlet. And as he bolted awake, he was chased by the echoed screams and cries of the dead.

He shivered in the cold sweat of the warm night. Sticky with guilt. As the sun rose in the morning he sat on the edge of camp near Harlin, watching it rise. He wondered if the Van Der Linde camp was just like this. Cold and unpredictable. Is this a life he could ever get used to? Should he even be here? but even if he managed to escape he was running away like a coward, allowing his own father to walk right into a trap.

Harlin whickered softly and lipped at his blond sweaty hair. He didn't even shove him away, too lost in thought.

What loyalty did he owe his father tho? According to his mother, this Arthur Morgan, loved him. Or would have if things were different. It was hard to imagine anyone loving him at this point. Considering all that he'd done. But his father was a notorious outlaw. Becoming a legend for his brutality even in the shadow of Dutch Van Der Linde. Perhaps the many murders wouldn't sour their relationship but build it? Isaac couldn't stand that idea. With the finality of a lighting strike straight to his core, he detested it. Murder was not something to bond over. To gloat about it as these outlaws did. Swapping gory tales around a smoky fireside.

But what else did he have at this point? He was a wanted man, probably wanted dead or alive. He chuckled bitterly at the thought his bounty had probably gone up to 75 or even 100 dollars since his escape from jail. If his father found out, would he try to cash in on his bounty? To trade a nuisance like him for a reward?

Isaac teared up at the thought of betrail. The betrail of a man who probably wouldn't give two shits about him. He was so invested in the idea of this man already. Secretly wishing some hero father would come save him from this wretched life he'd fallen into. but deep down he knew Arthur Morgan was even more likely to kill him than any man in the Bell gang.

"Isaac." someone called, pulling him from his thoughts. "We're getting ready for the mission."

"I'm coming." he assured, standing on shaking feet. Earning him a mocking laugh.

"Did the little doe-eyed boy lose his nerve?"

Isaac turned, fear warning him to be respectful but a man could only take so much before they broke. "I said I'm coming." he spat causing the smirk to drop into a glare.

"Wanna watch that mouth of yours boy?" the outlaw challenged. But Isaac was an outlaw too.

"Wanna watch yours?" He spat, and the ensuing gut-punch had him rolling in the dirt before he knew he'd been hit. He groaned into the dust as another kick tucked into his side and a spurred boot stomped solidly on his head. This was a different level of fighting than his uncle usually delt him. The unbridled swiftness and furry made his uncle look kind in comparison. Like the man had been holding back all that time.

"What's the matter little doe? That all you got?" Isaac growled helplessly as he was pinned to the ground. A final punch colliding with his cheek.

The man laughed as he gave one last shove before he got up and walked away. His back turned seemed to spark something in Isaac. An opening. Any voice of reason was gone as he scrambled over to lunged at the man. "I'm not some LITTLE DOE!"

One moment he was wrapped around the man's back and the next he was ragdoll'd to the ground, whipped off by the force of the man's twisting. As soon as he fell, two large hands picked him up by his coat and hurled him into the air. Landing hard in the center of camp. He didn't have time to get up before he was tackled again. "You wanna play with the big guns?"

Cheers from the camp began to spring up as people, including Micah, began goating the two on.

"Well come on, LITTLE DOE. Fight!" The others called, a half-circle forming around them as his opponent backed off to give him room to rise.

As Isaac stood they both raised fists and began to circle each other.

"All right little Doe, I'll even let you land the first hit." the other said playfully slapping his own cheek, offering the golden opportunity to gain the upper hand. Too late to back out now, Isaac went for it. Clocking the man solidly in the face.

"Not bad kid, but no one ever taught you how to fight. You need to put your shoulder into it, like this!"

Isaac woke up where he had dropped to someone nudging him with a dirty boot.

"Get up."

His head felt like it had exploded. Tenderly reaching up he wiped at a think patch of blood from the corner of his mouth. He coughed and gagged as his head rang with a throbbing headache.

Isaac gingerly sat up, cradling his head as his stomach threatened to evacuate.

"Everyone's gone on the mission but you've got a job to do and I'm not going to ask you again, get up."

Mission?... The Van Der Linde ambush! "What do you mean they left?" he demanded. Hobbling to his feet and staggering over to the only other occupant of the camp.

"Well, youse was passed out as we discussed our roles, so you got left with being an errand boy."

"But I was supposed to go with Micah to meet Arthur Morgan!"

"And you would have if you weren't such a little runt. How do you honestly expect to get revenge on the right-hand man of the Van Der Lind when you can't even handle Joe?"

Isaac scoffed, his temper flaring once again.

"Now none of that kid, this here's an important mission for ya. Micah wants you to take that giant horse of yours and deliver this to the second camp and assist with the raid."

"Second camp? What raid?" Isaac didn't even know there was a second camp.

"Gosh, you are daft, kid."

"I'm not daft, I'm just new." he spat.

The man gave him a heated glare that clearly said 'watch it boy' before he continued. "Micah has two camps, us, the ones who are going to ambush Van Der Linde. And the second, the ones who will descend on the Van Der Linde base camp and slaughter everyone."

Isaac froze. "I thought Micah just wanted the bounties. Why attack the base camp?"

"Cause kid, Micah doesn't just want to collect on the reward but completely defeat Dutch Van Der Linde. Now get going." He said passing him a note. "This is the location of the Van Der Linde Base camp. Deliver it to the second camp, they are just northeast of Emerald Ranch passed the railroad tracks. Now get going before I'm forced to do it."

Isaac took the note with a sense of relief. So long as he kept it from the second camp, then the Van Der Linde main camp would be ok.

"Where is the first camp going to ambush the Van Der Linde gang?" he pressed, slipping the page into his jeans pocket.

"kid." the other threatened half exasperated.

"This is my one chance at revenge. Once I deliver the message, where can I find the first camp?"

The man sighed. "Fine kid, it's by an abandoned oil well in the heartlands. In the middle of the wide-open country, surrounded by tall cliffs. Perfect for an ambush. I'm riding out now but the parle has probably already started, if not finished already. So I don't know what good it'll do ya t-"

BANG-

Without allowing time for regret, Isaac holstered his pistol as the man he shot, square in the chest, crumbled to the ground. He ignored the frozen expression, the look of shock on the man's face as he passed.

Isaac rode Harlin at a breakneck pace. Darting around slow-moving pedestrians and leaving their cursing and shouts in the dust behind him. Rushing through the expanse of grassy plain, hoping against all hope he wasn't too late.

He slowed as he reached the top of a grassy knoll and there, open and vulnerable, was a small group of three people.

"Come on boy, harder, we're almost there."

Isaac dashed straight for the group. As he neared he was able to make out the glossy black coat of Micah Bell. And in front of him, a man he'd only seen on wanted posters, Dutch Van Der Linde and guarding his back, stood none other than Arthur Morgan.


	6. Chapter 6

Isaac rode up with his heart in his lungs, everyone looking at him with various levels of confusion.

"Kid, what the hell are you doing here?" Micah hissed.

Saying nothing, Isaac got off his horse. He took a few greedy seconds to pass a hand along Harlin's sweating, panting neck. Isaac now stood directly between a firing squad and the lead members of one of the most notorious gangs of the wild west. He knew there was no real way he was going to get out of this alive, wasn't even going to pretend anymore. Dutch Van Der Linds didn't know he could trust him and the moment Isaac revealed Micah's plot, well, he'd be shot through the skull by one of the snipers.

"Boy!" Micah demanded again.

Finally, Isaac turned Harlin away and slapped him hard on the ass. Sending the horse fleeing to safety. Things were about to get really bloody really quick.

If he had more time he would have marveled at how far he'd come in such short about of time. Only a few months ago he was an abused but sheltered teenager. And now he was about to do the bravest thing of his entire life.

He squared off with Micah, and the man glared back. Hands twitching for his guns. Time to bite the bullet, he just hoped he wouldn't have to do it literally. "this entire arrangement is a trap." he revealed boldly. "There are snipers high on the cliffs waiting for Micah to give the signal to take you all out."

"You bastard." Micah sneered, taking a large step back. With all the theatrics of a grand magician, he raised his hand and made a slicing motion across his neck.

A half a second passed before Micah repeated the movement, this time facing the cliffs.

"You see my boy," Dutch said smoothly, directing Isaac's attention to him. "we came completely prepared for Micah's treachery."

"My treachery?" Micah spat. "Last I recall, YOU were the one to cast me aside because your little brat got jealous."

"However you choose to remember things is fine by me." Dutch soothed, blinking slowly.

"There's more!" Isaac shouted drawing out the page detailing where the other camp was. "He's also set up a raid for your main camp. He's got another gang watching them, ready to wipe them all out!"

"Is that so?" Dutch replied as he casually took the offered page. He opened it and smiled. "Arthur, you were right all along. About everything it seems." He half-turned to give Arthur an approving nod. "You see son, not many can sneak past the eagle eye of Arthur Morgan but absolutely no one can fool our Mr. Smith. We were in the process of moving camps after I was sighted outside of Valentine, so it really was no trouble to lead them back to our old camp and set it up as a decoy. Completely empty, unless you count the repurposed scarecrows and old tarps, that is."

Isaac was gobsmacked, "You were... prepared for everything?"

"Not only that," Dutch said gently laying his large hand on Isaac's shoulder. "We even left an anonymous tip with the Pinkertons. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. After today, there will be fewer gangs and lawmen to chase us." Dutch offered him a friendly smile and made a subtle signal toward the same cliffs Micah had. And Isaac realized Dutch must have his own men up there. That somehow Dutch had been one step ahead of them all by outflanking Micah's ambush with one of his own.

"Well," Micah spat. "there's one thing you had absolutely no way of accounting for." Isaac felt his collar yanked back, pulling him out of Dutch's grasp and the cold chamber of Micha's revolver came to rest at the side of his head.

Isaac risked a glance to see the man was seething. Practically foaming at the mouth.

"Threatening to shoot your own man is certainly a creative tactic I grant you." Dutch drolled. "but I fail to see how it would affect me."

"Always pretending, Dutch." Micha sneered, adjusting his hold over Isaac so it was even tighter. "But you never see the big picture, do you?" He let out a maniacal laugh as he shook Isaac roughly.

"This kid was arrested for the murder of his mother, Eliza Montgomery. Ain't that right, Isaac?"

"Just what are you-"

"Remember what you told me about Arthur's woman?" Micah said talking over Dutch. "At first I thought it may just be a coincidence, but when I broke him out of jail, the fake last name he used was Killgore. Sound familiar?"

"Sounds like a lot of circumstantial evidence." Dutch challenged, but his patience was finally showing a bit of wear as his prominent brows pinched in.

"Tell um Isaac!" Micah shouted. "Tell them all who's bastard son you are."

Isaac never really planned how he would reveal his identity to his father but at gunpoint was not how he ever imagined it. But even so, as he locked eyes with his father he saw what his mother had talked about. The same wispy blond hair and blue eyes as his own. and tho the man in front of him, gun raised and scowl fixed, was much bigger than him, it was like looking into a glimpse of the future. Some other version of himself, and he was awwed by how recognizable he was. Tho Isaac had no real memory of the man, he saw so much of his past. Someone wild and hardened by life, yet he held an eir of surety. Someone who wasn't evil but who did what had to be done and acted within the limits of some personal moral code.

The boy breathed in a calming breath as he took in the brief vision of someone he wanted to someday be. Not an outlaw, but the protective right-hand man of a modern-day Robin Hood.

"My name is Isaac Morgan." he said and the blue eyes he looked into widened a fraction but gave nothing else away except that something was felt by the man.


	7. Chapter 7

"My name is Isaac Morgan."

Arthur froze. This was impossible. Isaac was dead, Eliza was dead. He saw the graves he talked to the townspeople. They assured him, they were dead.

"I had big plans for him Arthur." Micha gloated, stretching the words out playfully. "He's a real chip off the old block. How many people have you killed this week, kid? Three, four?" Micha laughed. It wasn't forced or mocking but honest and gleefull. A sound of victory despite how thoroughly they had thwarted his plans, Micha was still so convinced he had won.

Arthur subconsciously tightened his grip on his shotgun and zeroed in on the kid, his supposed son.

The kid looked to be a million emotions at once. On the verge of hyperventilating, eyes wide and bloodshot. Black and blue bruising decorated the side of his face and tho he had a pistol in his holster, he didn't seem aware it was in reach. In fact, he didn't seem focused on what was currently happening to him at all. His expression lost and fogged over, like his mind was elsewhere. He looked young and scrawny. 14 or 15 but he was at that age where malnourishment could also play a factor in how old he looked. So it was just as likely he was 16 or 17. Arthur tried not to distract himself by figuring out how old Isaac would be now. He shoved the thought aside.

This couldn't be Isaac.

But as he looked at the kid his true identity became irrelevant. He was enough like how Isaac could be and he was held at gunpoint by none other than Micah 'the snake' Bell.

"What do you want Micah?" he challenged in a low somber growl.

Prompting Dutch to turn and look at him with open disbelief. "Arthur, you can't seriously think-"

"I said," he spoke over Dutch. "What do you want?"

Micah laughed again but this time more for show. It lacked any real humor.

"Firstly, I want all Dutch's boys down from those cliffs, then I wanna see all of you ride off into the sunset."

"What happens to the boy?"

"Finders keepers, cowboy."

"No." Arthur shouted stone-faced. His words seemed to spook something inside the kid. Like he was reliving some horrific event of his past and Arthur's words had triggered something. A memory? The boy's eyes became more focused and his expression less vacant. His posture changed subtly, his arm moving so that his fingertips could gently caress the pistol at his side.

"I could just put a bullet into him right now."

"If you do, we put a bullet through you." Dutch threatened for which Arthur was grateful.

"Well, it appears we are at an impasse."

"Then take me." Arthur volunteered, lowering his weapon. "Leave the kid and I'll leave my weapons and go with you peaceably."

"Arthur no." Dutch argued quickly. Impulsively side-stepping between Micah and Arthur. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder before facing Micah again. "You can't honestly be that gullible Arthur. It's a trick, he's not your son. He's not Issac."

"Then tell um boy," Micha said as he shook the kid, Isaac. "Tell um about your ma, how you killed her."

Isaac gulped hard and shivered, tightening his grip on his pistol. "I didn't kill her." His voice shook but gradually gained strength with each passing word. His eyes now completely clear, bore into Arthur.

"She loved you, till the day she died she loved you. She, she didn't want to go but my uncle convinced her it wasn't safe, that we were in danger because of who my father was. A murderous outlaw. You." He shook his head and glared before continuing. "I hated you for so long. He told me you left us. That's why my uncle had to step up and take care of us, because YOU abandoned her."

Like a bolder gaining momentum rolling downhill, his voice gained in strength and anger as he continued. Micah's gun at his head long forgotten."My uncle promised to take her to New York but instead he just kept her away in a cabin in the middle of nowhere because she had a bastard son out of wed lock! He said she was an embarrassment, a disgrace! He forced her to work, she'd sew dresses for pennies a day. Day in and day out. And if she got behind or I miss behaved, he'd lock me in the storage shed without food for weeks at a time. I survived by eating the bark of the walls and drinking rusty water that dripped in during the rain. And all while he got drunk. He'd come in and beat her, beat us!"

Tears had begun to fall and his body slackened again. His eyes dropped to the dusty ground as he continued. "When she got sick she, she knew she wasn't going to get better, she started telling me what really happened. Stories he wouldn't let her tell."

"Then one night he came in as she was giving me money and trying to convince me to run away." He hiccuped around a sob. "He hit her, threw her to the floor and I just couldn't stop him! I was so angry, I, I just grabbed him and I hit him."

Isaac shook his head as if trying to shake the memory free. To escape its horrors. "I, I couldn't stop, I just kept hitting him. He stopped moving and I just couldn't stop. I tried to save her, I really did but... the last thing my mother ever saw me do was kill a man." Isaac finally lifted his head to look back at Arthur. "Her last words were to find you. That you, that you..."

Whatever words she had said to him refused to be spoken, too caught up in the web of memory and emotion to be given a coherent voice. The kid had completely unraveled at this point, the emotional tole of his life crushing him under guilt and grief.

"And who else did you kill?" Micah whispered into the broken boy's ears and Arthur wanted nothing more than to cut off the serpent's tongue.

"I, I killed the witness in the jail, the guy at camp and... and..." without warning, Isaac lifted his pistol, blindly pointed it behind him and squeezed the trigger. The shot was point-blank, too close to be anything but a bullseye. The bullet obliterating Micah's face.

Isaac sagged as the body rolled off him to the ground. He couldn't help but look at the new corps he'd made. The now-familiar numbness slowly seeping back into him as his entire world narrowed down to the fourth person he'd murdered.

He couldn't look away as Micah's body remained still.

Finally, someone stepped between them. Forcing him to break off contact. No words were spoken as his father knelt in front of him. Isaac tried to speak as warm arms wrapped around him and encircled him, drawing him forward. Arthur Morgan held him tightly, allowing the fog of numbness to dissipate and instead be filled with actual grief. Isaac found himself tugging at the tan leather jacket trying to press closer as he cried onto his chest.


	8. Chapter 8

"Arthur, a word," Dutch called as the rumble of horse hooves came near.

Isaac looked up helplessly as his father untangled himself fom him.

"Charles," Arthur called as he made his way over to Dutch, "I need you to keep an eye on him a minute. Alright?"

"Alright Arthur." came a deep yet concerned voice.

Isaac couldn't help the stab of betrail as he watched the man walk away. Dutch eyeing him from over his father's shoulder. A look of pinched in distain had Isaac finching away like he would in the glare of a hungry wolf.

He finched in further as he realized Dutch's pack had him surrounded.

Out of the corner of his eye, a dirty gray rifle muzzle swayed inches from the ground. Held casually in the grasp of a dark-skinned man. Isaac couldn't bring himself to look him in the eye. Instead he stared at the ground, all the while he strained his ears to pick up scraps of conversation between Dutch and his father.

"...no." was all he could pick up. His heart dropping out and his lower lip threatened to tremble but he steadfastly kept it in check.

"Alright boy." someone growled. Surprising Isaac with the cold chamber of a gun nudging his chin up. He couldn't hide his fear as he looked up into the dark unforgiving eyes of Dutch Van Der Linde. "You have any proof you are who you say you are?"

His throat came up dry and he chuffed before shaking his head.

Dutch sneered looking back to Arthur. "See, you said yourself, Micah isn't to be trusted. Yet that's all we can go off of for this boy."

"Dutch, I know you're upset with Micah but..." Arthur floundered. "Damit Dutch. I'm not saying he is or he isn't. I'm just sayin let's bring him with."

"So we can bring a new rat into the gang? Someone specifically designed to manipulate YOU?" Dutch challenged and Arthur looked away.

Isaac could feel the tension in the air as the gange fidgeted nervously at Dutch's words.

They'd leave him behind? Isaac thought fearfully. He'd come so far and gone through so much only to find himself on the precipice of being abandoned again. Feverisously he though back to any sort of proof he had.

"Sir?" he whispered tentatively before clearing his voice to try again. "Um, I don't have it with me but when I was arrested, before Micah found me, I had a picture of my mother." Dutch's glare intensified to outright hatred. "T-the the sheriff took it from me and I never got it back. But it's there, I promise."

"Where were you arrested?"

"Annesburg," he said, eyes drifting to his father's warn boots. "I left my saddle pad behind the stables too. Didn't have time to properly tack up before I left," he added lamely.

"Alright," Arthur said nodding to Dutch. "I'll go to Annesburg and get the photo. That would at least give credence to his story."

"I'll go with." Isaac looked up to see a man with three parallel scars along his cheek, walk over to Arthur. "don't rightly know what's going on but steeling from a sheriff doesn't exactly sound like a one-person job."

"Be careful." Isaac cautioned quickly, "Micah killed the sheriff when he broke me out of jail."

To the boy's surprise, Arthur laughed bitterly. "Typical." he muttered under his breath. "so it's settled, John and I'll go to Annesburg and bring back any proof... " for a minute it looked like he was going to say more but trailed off.

Dutch sighed in defeat. "Alright, but I want you both back in no less than three days. It's still possible this is a setup."

Arthur nodded as "John" brought his horse up beside him.

But instead of mounting his horse, Arthur walked past Isaac to the man with the rifle pointed to the ground. "Charles, I want you to keep an eye on him while I'm gone, he's ah..."

Isaac looked up at him, eyes meeting as Arthur turned to him. "H, his name is Isacc Morgan." He said softly, maintaining eye contact and watching as Isaac's body relaxed and a week smile played across is features.

Tho the gang froze in shock, Isaac felt relieved. His father hadn't abandoned him, hadn't denied him. In fact, he was heading into danger to prove Isaac was telling the truth.

"Be careful" he said softly. Wanting so much to call him 'pa' but instinctively he knew it would infuriate Dutch, so he kept quiet.

Arthur nodded quickly before turning back the Charles. "Keep an eye on him. Make sure he, that he..."

"I will Arthur," Charles assured gently, reaching up to grip Arthur's shoulder. Something seemed to pass between them and Arthur relaxed a bit before he too reached up to rest his hand on Charles'.

Eventually, the two broke apart and Arthur let out a whistle that called a sturdy mustang to him.

"We have no proof he is who he claimes to be." Dutch growled as Arthur mounted up. "And in the absence of proof, no one will refer to him as Isaac Morgan." Isaac watched as his father frowned deeply.

"Well," Isaac ventured happily, fueled by a cheeky recklessness brought on by finally meeting his father. "I gave Micah a fake name, so if you want you could use that in the meantime."

"What name was that?"

"Isaac Killgore."

And Isaac's world grew brighter as he saw his pa laugh. "You may want to keep him out of Dutch's way." Arthur said smiling at Charles as he nudged his horse up the dusty trail towards Annenberg. "We'll see you in a few days. Try to stay out of trouble."


	9. Chapter 9

A cloth bandanna covered his eyes but it likely wouldn't have made any difference since they had taken far to many turns for Isaac to have any idea of where they were.

He simply clung to Charles as he blindly bounced along like a saddlebag. His only comfort was the occasional mouthing at his shirt as Harlin trotted beside him.

As Charles helped him dismount he took off the blindfold and cast his eyes around to find the camp was tucked back in the hollow of a cave. Perhaps somewhere in the grizzlies or dense part of Roanoke Ridge.

It reminded him of the cabin he and his mother lived in. Hidden away in seclusion by the tall trees of the forest, like a secret never to be told.

When they arrived, Isaac was curious to see not only elderly men but women and even a child were apart of the Van Der Linde crew. Isaac found the idea strangely appealing.

"Come on," Charles said softly. "I'll show you around."

Charles seemed to have infinite patience for Isaac's nervous tendencies. Tendencies even he didn't know he possessed to such a degree. Tho he was always defensive, his short time with the Bell gang had left him jumpy at any fast movement and suspicious of any kindness.

A free bowl of soup was pushed into his hands but despite how hungry he was, he was too skeptical and paranoia to eat. That is until Charles dipped his own spoon into Isaac's bowl to demonstrated it was edible.

Isaac stuck to him like glue after that.

No one beside Charles really paid him any mind. It didn't seem like people knew what to make of him and he couldn't really blame them.

At night he lay awake staring up at the stars, wondering if he'd ever see his father again. The thought that Arthur may not have a safe return stewed just under his skin and worried his stomach into knots. It was almost dawn when Charles got up.

"You sleep at all?" he asked casually as they carried the bags of meal over to the food wagon.

"Yeah." he lied simply but poignantly ignored Charles studying him.

"You're a lot like him." He said eventually and Isaac perked up. did Charles believe him?

"You both lie the same."

Isaac didn't know what that meant but it made him cheer up a bit as he continued with the other camp chores.

"Mr. Killgor." an elderly woman, Mis Grimshaw, called out to him. "It may well be that you remain with us for quite some time and I'll not have you stinking up my camp." She groused marching over to where he stood helping Charles gather the freshly chopped wood. "When was the last time you bathed? Or have you ever?" She challenged.

"Um, I." he stuttered.

"No matter. You're filthy enough that nothing but the river will do. I've already talked to Mr. Van Der Linde and Mr. Mathues and they've agreed it would be alright for you to go bath in the river, provided you're accompanied by Mr. Smith that is."

***

Isaac shivered as he sunk into the steady water of a wide river. He didn't know how to swim but the current wasn't strong or deep enough to make him worry. He was about to climb back into his dirty close when Charles handed him a fresh pair of clean pants and a shirt.

"They may be a bit big but you'll grow into them."

Isaac dressed quickly to find Charles leaning against a tree, a journal open on his lap.

"Thank you Mr. Smith." he offered politely.

"You'll have to thank the girls when we get back, They're the ones who made them for you."

Made them, for him? He couldn't help but look down at the clean linens again. The cream shirt billowed out around him but fit him nicely at the arms. The pants gathered at his waist, begging for a belt, but didn't have any patches or frayed edges. He smoothed the sleeve of one arm and looked back up at Charles to see the man already looking at him.

"Why are you all being so nice to me? You don't have any proof I am who I say I am." He pointed out. Regretting his words immediately. The last thing he wanted was to make Charles suspicious. "It's just," he tried to recover.

"You're right," Charles spoke up. "We don't know who you are, just as you don't really know who we are but I saw how you risked your life to save us, to save those at camp. You were brave enough to stand between Dutch and Micah and even saved your horse by sending him away. That was one of the most heroic things I've ever witnessed."

Isaac blushed under the compliment, "Except, you were prepared for the ambush. Even had time to set up a decoy camp, I tried to, but I didn't save anybody."

Charles paused for a moment, considering his words or perhaps just considering Isaac. "Yes you did." he continued in all seriousness. "you saved yourself. Don't ever look on that as if it was nothing."

For some reason his words hit someplace raw within Isaac and he bit back on his lip so it didn't wabble. His thoughts drifted to what had transpired to get him to where he was. He'd tried his best to save his mother, the Van Der Linde camp, his father. But not once had he even believed it was really possible for him to be saved, so he didn't even try. Now even more so, he was a lost cause, a murder. He visibly cringed as he thought the words.

"I don't wanna kill ever again." he blurted, his mouth working without permission.

Charles didn't appear disappointed or shocked by the honest reveal. He patted the ground beside him and Isaac sat down in its place.

"That is admirable." Charles consoled. "but we all need to pay our own way, especially in a gange. Do you have any dreams, Isaac? If you don't want to be an outlaw, what do you want to do with your life?" the words were gentle as a lullaby.

Isaac thought over his abilities and tho he didn't have many, there was one thing that lit a passion in him. "I, I love horses. I like being around them. I wanna be a trainer." He watched as Charles nodded along.

Tilting his head back Charles sighed. "Horses will always be necessary in this world. The well trained will always be sought after and paid well for." He closed his journal before continuing. "Perhaps it would be good for everyone to have an honest and steady income for a change?" He pondered rhetorically. After a heartbeat he glanced at Isaac and smiled approvingly. "Arthur is good with horses as well."

Isaac looked away as a giddy hopefull feeling took root in his soul. What if he didn't have to kill? That he could be apart of the gang and still be with his father.?

He rested his head against the steady tree at his back as Charles pulled out an old beat up Harmonica and began playing. The low melody ascended, threaded itself into the tapestry of branches of the tree limbs overhead. Isaac relaxed in the shade and basked in the tune till finally, he drifted off into a pleasant sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am glad they got a bit of peace before... well, you'll see. (Still will have a happy ending tho)


	10. Chapter 10

Isaac woke to the snapping sound of a fire. He blinked blurrily as he sat up, a blanket falling off him as he did so.

"ah, you're awake." someone greeted. Isaac was shocked to find Hosea smiling at him from across the campfire.

"What, where am I?" he asked disoriented. Judging by how dark it was, it must have been several hours past sunset. Tho his eyes weren't focused enough tell much beyond that.

"You're back at camp," Hosea answered simply. "Charles brought you back. Should've seen Mis Grimshaw fussing over you. She thought you drowned in the river."

"No, I'm fine," Isaac assured, wondering where Charles was but too insecure to voice it.

"You were out like the dead." He continued casually, "made us wonder when it was you had last slept." the man eyed him in the same nonchalant way as before but a guarded intensity to it made Isaac wonder if he was genuinely asking. That the casualty was a facade and in truth, he was... concerned? Why would he be concerned?

Isaac rubbed his eyes and jumped as a bowl of food was suddenly held out to him.

"Sorry Amego, didn't mean to startle you." A Hispanic man, Javier, offered, setting the bowl down at Isaac's feet.

"Um, no that's fine," Isaac assured again. He looked at the bowl and then up at Javier and across to Hosea, looking for an answer.

"Well, if you let it go cold it'll be a waste and you'll have to pay for it." Hosea said, a crooked smile played across his face as Isaac immediately began to dig in. He was swallowing the last lump of potato as Charles sat down beside him and reminded him to chew... and to breath.

Isaac looked up, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and was about to apologize for his poor manners when the firelight caught the faint movement of a man with a tan jacket. Arthur was back! he thought excitedly.

Isaac found himself dashing across the camp in about three large steps to greet him. "Pa." he called. The words naturally slipping out before he could think better of it.

Arthur froze, shock written clear across his face but remained silent.

"Isaac!" Isaac flinched as his name cracked sharply around him like a whip. Slowly Isaac looked up to see the Van Der Lind Leader glaring down at him. The echoed vitriol rattled around Isaacs's head as Isaac looked at the man. "A word please," Dutch said as he stood at the mouth of his tent. His tone a sharp and disapproving.

Confused and a bit frightened, Isaac turned back to his father. The shock had drained away and something more terrifying replaced it... grief. And Isaac knew without needing to be told. They weren't able to find his mother's picture.

Isaac swallowed a lump swelling in his throat as a warm hand rested on his shoulder. Looking back, Isaac saw Hosea. The older man had a weary but kind smile. "Come on. We need to discuss a few things."

Isaac felt like he was splitting in two as he turned to watch his father turn away. Arthur's shoulders hunched and head bowed. On either side of him was Charles and John, twin expressions of concern and sadness. Clearly, Dutch had ordered Arthur to keep his distance.

The tent closed behind him and Isaac was ushered into a chair, Hosea and Dutch seated across from him. "Judging by your expression you know what happened, or rather what didn't." Dutch said liting his pipe. He gave a few experimental puffs as Isaac nodded.

Dutch let out a deep sigh as he leaned back in his chair. A few moments passed without much movement or any conversation. Only the occasional breeze against the tarp made any notable sound.

"It's there, I know it is." he whispered almost to quiet to hear even in the silence. "Where would they have put it?"

Dutch exhaled deeply through his nose as he thought. "If it exists and it's not at the Sheriff's office, then it's probably been handed over to the FBI."

Isaac worried at his lip. The FBI wasn't some country bumpkin law enforcement. They were the federal government.

"Do you have any other proof," Dutch pressed. "Anything at all to prove your story."

Isaac shook his head. "I'm sure my ma's cabin has been emptied by now."

Hosea cleared his throat as if to speak but Dutch cut him off. "I am really sorry, Isaac. Truly I am, but Micah's devious manipulation almost destroyed us once and I'll not risk it again. I'm sorry, but come morning you'll be taken to a nearby town a left."

"Dutch," Hosea protested. "He's just a boy."

"A boy who ran with Micah." Dutch's tone was sharp, teetering on the edge of losing his temper. "And we all know Micah is not above this kind of manipulation. Do you really want to risk losing Arthur because we couldn't see what cunning plan Micah laid out for him?"

"Because he killed Micah." Hosea spat, leaning forward on his seat with both hands clenching at his knees. "don't you think if Micah was really this much of a 'cunning mastermind', he would have avoided his own death."

Dutch just and crossed his legs, drawing himself away from Hosea. "All that means is this kid is capable of betraying a fellow gang member and gang leader. Hosea, think. All we can go off of is the word of a boy-"

"Who came to our defense when Micah threatened our people." Hosea cut him off.

"So he says, my friend. So he says." Dutch's words rumbled low and foreboding and the room lapsed back into silence.

Isaac's heartbeat thundered against his chest as Hosea leaned back in his chair and sighed. "I'm telling you right now, Dutch. You send this boy away you'll lose Arthur for sure."

Dutch crossed his legs and recrossed them as he considered Hosea's words and for the first time showing a twinge of uncertainty. "I'm trying my best Hosea."

"I know Dutch." Hosea sighed.

Dutch turned back to Isaac and gave a sigh of his own. "I want to believe you, I do... but I have a camp full of people to consider. To keep safe. We have already had a traitor among our gang before. If there was any way-"

"My grave." Isaac said suddenly. "it's empty! We'll just dig it up and..."

"Grave robbing isn't exactly an uncommon occurrence." Dutch pointed out and Isaac deflated. It was well-known doctors would pay for abandoned graves to be dug up so the bodies could be experimented on or used for educational purposes. Even Isaac, being as sheltered as he was, had heard about it.

"We will leave you with a few provisions of course and some money to get you started." Dutch continued. "It should also interest you to know that Arthur has graciously paid off your bounty. Tho I'd still recommend you refrain from visiting any large towns for a few days or so. Give them time to collect all of these." Dutch said sliding over a crumpled and torn-up wanted poster with Isaac's face and name on it.

"I also need to ask you to stay away from Arthur, I'm sorry Isaac but it's for the best."

Isaac felt dazed as he left the tent. Floating around in some kind of 'out of body experience' as he meandered, foggy-headed, around the camp.

Tho he was supposed to keep his distance, Isaac could help but look for his father.

Arthur sat on his cot, head in his hands as Charles and John hovered close by. It warmed Issac to know there were people who cared for his father in such a way, and it sent a tingle of jealousy mixed with equal parts sadness and loneliness, to know no one had ever cared for him like that. The truth is he was alone. Without proof, he was viewed as a threat to the Van Der Linds, to Arthur.

Despite how much he had slept that day, Isaac felt drained. He laid down on his blanket by the fire and thought over the last time he had slept so soundly. It certainly wasn't when he was with Micah or on his own, paranoid and frightened. Or when he was a kid, always fearful his drunk uncle would come find him.

No, the truth was, that day was the best he had ever slept. The sweet promise of belonging, of home and family, soothing him into a gentle slumber. And no, he would likely never sleep so soundly ever again.

He couldn't ask or expect his father to give up this life. In fact, it was a life he longed for. Tho the people were somewhat distant to him, he was beginning to wonder if that had more to do with not wanting to frighten him off, rather than them not wanting him around. Even Dutch seemed somewhat regretful.

He was so close to happiness but he couldn't stay.

A sob escaped his lips and he couldn't hold back the several others that followed. His embarrassment spiked as he heard someone coming to sit on one of the crates by the fire.

A few seconds passed before the gentle strumming of a guitar covered his cryes. Eventually, his shuttered cries quieted down enough for him to be able to hear an accented voice singing.

"Pushing forward through the night,"

"aching chest and blurry sight."

"It's so far, so far away."

"It's so far, so far away."

"Cold wind blows into the skin."

"Can't believe the state you're in."

"aching chest and blurry sight."

"aching chest and blurry sight... "

Isaac teared up as he listened. The words giving him permission to let go and cry. And so, covered by the sound of guitar strings, he did. All he could think was how much he needed this, a family, his family. And all he needed to keep them was the proof held in the custody of federal agents.

*****

Arthur jolted awake by the urgency in Charle's voice but his mind was still too sleep muddled to make out what had been said. "sorry wha-"

"It's Isaac, he's gone." Charles said pressing a piece of paper in front of his blurry eyes.

'Gone to get proof -Isaac M.'

Arthur froze lake he'd plunging into a fridged lake.

God damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it. Arthur growled throwing his legs over the edge of his cot and began storming around the camp like a fat angry badger. If there was any proof that Isaac was truly his son it was in the stupidity of going off to rob the FBI on his own. Stupid, stupid, stupid! He was going to kill Isaac when he found him.

"Arthur," Hosea called after, him but he was already mounting his horse.

"Charles, do you know what direction?"

Charles kneeled down to examine the earth at his feet. "Perhaps only an hour old." he said straightening up to point down a grassy slope. "It doesn't look like he took the road. Probably hoping the grass would make for a quieter getaway."

"Who was on watch last night?" Arthur seethed, almost biting his own tongue in frustration.

"Bill." Charles offered reluctantly. He obviously didn't want Arthur to do anything rash but he deserved to know.

"Arthur, what's going on?" Hosea hollered again, raising his arm rasing above his head, holding a lamp to ward off the darkness. his tone spiked with uncertainty.

Arthur whipped around, eyes blue and stormy in the lamplight. "My son, ran off to get that damn photo!" And waisting no more time he kicked his horse up into a full-on gallop.

Arthur's heart was in his lungs as they dashed parallel to Isaac's trail. All the while the thought this could be the path that leads to his son's corpse flashed wickedly across his mind. A sudden memory sprang up, playing out like a film behind his eyes. Forcing him to vividly recall a similar trail that lead up to Eliza's and Isaac's home. It was so real. The wooden crosses standing tall in the yard but this time their graves wouldn't be empty.

Arthur was lost as his creative mind plagued him with the graphic details of all the possibilities for what could befall his son. or perhaps, what had already happened.

Would they shoot first? Save themselves the trouble of due process by stringing him up on the nearest tree? or-

"Arthur!" Charles called, and like a spell being broken it shattering the hold his thoughts had over him. "Arthur, we will get him back." and Arthur turned to see the seriousness in Charles's eyes.

Arthur wanted to believe, he needed to believe Charles but as Dutch use to say, he was a doubter. It simply wasn't in his nature to believe.

"Arthur." Charles repeated. "Trust me."

And in that moment he had no other choice. It was either go mad or follow Charles. And so he did the unthinkable, he eased back on the reins and allowed for Charles to take the lead. Soon after he became aware of the thundering of horse hooves directly behind him and, looking back, Arthur saw what the Braithwaites may have seen after they kidnapped Jack. The cavalry was coming.

They road as an army, single-minded in purpose, following Charles and surrounding Arthur. John, Hosea, Sadie, Lenny, Sean, Havier and even Dutch.


	11. Chapter 11

A halo of sunlight peeked over the horizon, blanketing the world with a vast array of smoky fluorescent colors. In response, the electrical lights of the city were being shut off to welcome the approaching dawn.

Isaac gave Harlin a comforting pat on the neck as he coxed the weary horse to walk the unfamiliar cobblestone streets of the busy city. Sure, Dutch Van Der Linde had cautioned him to stay away from large cities but Saint-Denis was the most likely place to find the FBI.

Slowly and cautiously, the horse and rider weaved through the waking town. It was certainly the largest city he had ever been to and, if he was being honest with himself, Isaac was finding the tall buildings and narrow roadways to be quite intimidating and claustrophobic. The intermittent soft jingle of trollies was somehow especially eery.

Just around the corner from the police station he dismounted and tried to act casual as he leaned against a cement wall, surveying the building.

The distinctive blue coats of the officers coming in and out set him on edge. He wished he had his father's hat to shield his face from view but no use worrying about that now.

Four men in black suits, very similar to what the FBI could have crossed the street and entered the building. But perhaps they were just businessmen or Pinkertons?

He adjusted his gunbelt nervously and tried to form a plan of action.

Perhaps he should go inside? He could act like his horse had been stolen. Filling a police report would buy him some time to monitor those insides. He could also act like a starry-eyed boy who dreamed of being an FBI agent one day. He could beg to talk to one. That shouldn't be suspicious. Provided they didn't recognize him, that is.

Finally, he pushed away from the wall and began making his way across the street. He was about to step on the curb when someone grabbed at his elbow.

"Sorry lad," Came a cheery Irish accent. "Don't wanna be going in there. Tho judging by the look on your pa face it may be safer."

Isaac looked to his right and was stunned to recognize the man next to him as Sean, from the Van Der Lind gang.

"Oi, what are you doing here?" Isaac asked as Sean pulled them back the way he'd come and Sean let out a hearty laugh.

"Kids today," The Irishmen all but sang, "they think they can waltz into any predicament and all will turn up roses. With nary a thought to what others have to go through for them."

"That's rich coming from you." Another voice said, this time to Isaacs left. Isaac turned to see Charles, tho the man scowled ahead and refused to look directly at him. Isaac felt a twinge of shame as it occurred to him Charles was disappointed in him.

Together Sean and Charles marched him around the concrete half-wall so they were out of sight of the police station. Isaac was about to protest when suddenly he was pulled from Sean's grasp and yanked back around to face the steely glare of Arthur Morgan.

Isaac couldn't help but let out a muffled shout of surprise at facing the frosty glower.

"Shut it," Arthur seethed through his teeth. His hands flexed tightly around Isaac and, looking down, Isaac realized his father was shaking.

Noticing himself, Arthur abruptly let go of Isaac but his hands at his sides still vibrated with unspent energy and emotion. "one more word out of you and so help me god, I will..." Arthur's quiet yet harsh voice trailed off and the man seemed to flounder for what else to say. "I don't need proof." the outlaw finally whispered, catching Isaac off guard.

Isaac watched as the rabid anger from his father seemed to boil off. Evaporating in front of his eyes like moring due in the noonday sun. Arthur's face softened yet still retained his scowled, almost baring his teeth like a beast but his eyes were glossed over with a sheen of unspilt tears.

"I don't need proof." Arthur repeated quietly. "Maybe Dutch does but I don't." Arthur took in a steadying breath and nodded, as tho encouraging himself to go on. "I know who you are." He said simply. "And if you have to leave, then I'm going with you."

Isaac was too dumbfounded to do much more than gawk at the man.

"Well," Arthur spat. "We don't have all day, saddle up!"

The words startled him to action. Leaping onto Harlin's back he found his voice. "Pa, I can't ask you to give up the gang."

"My mind's made up boy." Arthur cast a sideways glance to Isaac and felt the last of the adrenalin leave him as he sighed. "Look, I lost you once. I'm not foolish enough to let it happen again."

They rode out of the city quietly. Arthur and Isaac upfront with a quiet Charles and Sean trailing behind.

As they reached the edge of the city limits Arthur veered off towards a cluster of trees. Isaac followed wordlessly and was surprised to find several other members of the Van Der Linde gang waiting for them. Including Dutch.

"Dutch," Arthur greeted as he dismounted.

"Arthur," Dutch replied somewhat standoffish. Dutch and Hosea stood close to each other but a subtle tension divided them enough to make Isaac think they weren't actually getting along.

Arthur stopped a few feet from them before he took off his hat. "I know you don't trust Micah, hell I don't trust Micah. And there's nothing I can do to prove this isn't part of some grand plan of his. No point in trying to convince you of something even I'm not 100% sure of." he cast a glance back to Isaac before continuing. "But that doesn't matter, Dutch. In every way that matters, he's Isaac."

"Arthur, I'm asking for some faith. I-"

"No." Arthur said flatly and Dutch was stunned into silence for several heartbeats.

"What did you say?" Dutch challenged clenching his teeth as the surrounding gang members hackles rose in response.

A thick tension filled the air as Arthur continued. "I can't put faith in you. not for something like this."

"How can you cast aside 20 years of loyalty like that?" Dutch spat, his voice a raspy growl.

"Because I'm loyal to what matters. He's my family, Dutch. Just as you are but you're the one making me choose." Arthur swallowed, shaking his head. "I'm sorry Dutch, but I think it's time I leave, for good."

Dutch said nothing, there was nothing else to be said.

Arthur turned away, keeping his eyes down as he passed the gang he had called family. He slipped his hat on as he mounted up and when he did his eyes caught sight of Charles.

Like a room so dark no light reflects back, Charles wore a hardened stonefaced expression that let nothing show as to his true feelings... but that in itself showed everything Arthur needed to see. It told Arthur that the mountain of feelings locked and buried behind the well-guarded look was all for him.

Arthur hung his head as a bitter grimace crept on his face. Life would never truly let them be happy, would it?

He pulled back on the reins to turn away when a warm hand came to rest on his leg. Arthur looked down to see Hosea, his smile wobbled momentarily before he tightened his hand. "It makes no sense rushing off without your own provisions, Arthur. Come back to camp and collect your things first. Give us time to say a proper goodbye."


	12. Chapter 12

Isaac sat down at the campfire beside Charles and watched him sharpen the head of an arrow. He didn't glance over or acknowledge Isaac in any way. Tho Isaac got the impression Charles wasn't intentionally ignoring him but rather he was just lost to his own worries and thoughts.

"where's, um do you know where Arthur is?" He asked softly, voice cracking with morning disuse.

"He's still talking with Dutch and Hosea."

Isaac nodded as he stood up and made his way over to the horses. Charles followed close behind. Isaac didn't know what else to say so he settled for looking over the condition of his saddle.

Charles remained quiet as he brushed a hand over Harlin's forelock.

Isaac sighed. He didn't want Arthur to give up the life he had built here, with these people, his family. The bond between Charles and Arthur especially.

Isaac watched the other out of the corner of his eye. They hadn't even left camp yet and Charles was already lost and listless. It gnawed at him to know he was responsible for severing whatever existed between them.

Hosea's words echoed in his mind. "If you send this boy away you'll lose Arthur for sure." Looked like Dutch wasn't the only one to lose him.

"Do you know if, Arthur and John were able to find my saddle pad in Annesburg?" Isaac asked trying to distract the man.

"Not sure, I, Kieran should know," Charles replied. "I'll go ask him."

As Charles disappeared Isaac leaned against Harlin. The thoroughbred responded by bringing his head back to lip at Isaacs's new shirt. The one made especially for him by the girls.

"Here's your saddle pad." Kieran said coming up behind him. "would you like me to finish tacking him up for you?" he offered.

"um sure."

Kieran smiled sadly as he removed the saddle. Harlin's ears twitched momentarily before laying back calmly.

"He's a good horse." Kieran commented. An artificial happiness to his voice, obviously trying to cheer Isaac up.

"Yeah he is." was all Isaac could reply.

"If you don't mind me asking. Why were you using this?" Kieran said as he pulled the old blanket off the horse's back.

"The saddle pad got dirty as I was traveling, looking for Arthur." he whispered the last bit. "I took it off and washed it in the river and used the blanket while this was drying. I got arrested before I could swap them back out."

Isaac adjusted the pad on Harlins back as Kieran moved to get the saddle. It was all happening so fast. As soon as they were packed, they'd have to leave. And Isaac just wanted to cling to this place even more.

"Do, do you know if I can get the blanket washed quick before we, um before we leave?"

"Yeah," Charles said from his place against the wagon. The arrowhead he had been sharpening now whittled down to something resembling a pencil. "Shouldn't be a problem, just give it to one of the girls."

Isaac nodded numbly and wandered towards where they should be, all the while Charles ghosted after him. It was possible Charles was just being hypervigilant and overprotective in making sure Isaac couldn't run away again but that didn't account for the man's sudden lackluster energy. Charles usually moved with purpose and intention but now he was a touch slower, his steps a bit heavier, eye-level a smidge lower. It saddened Isaac further to note the same symptoms were mirrored in his father.

Isaac cleared his throat shily as he approached Tilly. "Do you need anything Isaac?" She asked. Her sweet accent distracting him from his inquiry.

"Um, yeah, could I get this washed before we leave?." He couldn't help the blush that crept up his face as she smiled softly up at him.

Tilly's smile widened, not mocking him but in a soft kind of way that sent butterflies free in his stomach. "Sure," she said politely. Isaac looked down at the blanket as he felt their hands briefly touch. At the soft contact, he felt his blush deepen.

"Perhaps they are related," He heard Karen mumble, "They certainly have the same type." Isaac was about to make a hasty retreat back to the horses when Mis Grimshaw plucked the blanket from Tilly's grasp.

"Where did you get this?" She demanded, parting the folded fabric to get a better look at it.

"Ah, I'm sorry, it's a blanket I used it as a saddle pad when the other one got dirty."

"Your blanket?" She said and he nodded mutely. "Where did you get it?"

"From home."

She stared at him a moment leaving Isaac to gape in confusion. He became even more confused when a wry smile crossed her lips. "come with me." she ordered, marching off towards the large white tent Dutch lived in. She didn't even announce herself as she barged in, Dutch, Hosea, Arthur and John all in some kind of conference.

"Good evening-" Dutch began cordially but stopped abruptly as Mis Grimshaw unceremoniously dropped the blanket in a pile on the desk.

"You need to have a look at this." she coxed coyly. Bewildered glances were shared by all as Isaac hung back in the doorway with Charles at his side.

Mr. Van Der Linde leaned forward in his chair to better examine the object. "Mis Grimshaw." he sighed, "I really don't have the time for..."

"Oh good grief," she scolded, cutting him off again. " Look, Right here." her bony finger pointing at a warn and frayed corner. "It's been monogrammed with the initials I. M."

Dutch hesitated before shaking his head. "Mis Grimshaw, that could belong to anyone. Initials aren't exclusive."

"I know it COULD belong to anyone but it doesn't, I know because I'm the one who made it." she paused, pulling a corner of fabric closer to Dutch. "And Look closer, this is a patchwork quilt made from the scraps of old vests, coats, and dresses. Vests and coats, I might add, that not only uses to belong to YOU but to Mr. Matthues and Mr. Morgan as well. And the bits of dresses were from myself, Annabel and Bessy. Mr. Van Der Linde, this is a quilt WE made for Eliza... for Isaac.

"yes but-" Dutch began before he was cut off again, this time by Hosea.

"You may be able to argue a few things are coincidental but when you add everything together. Dutch, Think!" Hosea's voice cracked as he leaned forward and pounded his fist on the table in impatient frustration. "Think about how perfectly the boy's story lines up to what could have happened. How does he know names he shouldn't? And even if Micha had coached him, Micah never would have known what Arthur looked like at that age. Their similarities are far too striking for Micah to have just happened upon this boy. But I believe Micah's interest in him is just more proof that he is the real Isaac."

The room fell quiet, everyone letting Hosea's words take root. Slowly Dutch reached out to the blanket and gently ran a hand along a particular floral printed square of fabric, lost to whatever memory the fabric triggered.

Hosea slumped forward tiredly and gingerly reached a hand out to gently shake Dutch from the dazed stooper he had fallen into. "One or two coincidences you may be able to ignore but they are mounting up. You have to face it, Dutch. Even you have to admit this is too much." Hosea took a shaky breath as Dutch finally looked him in the eye." you wanted proof, my friend. Well, this is it."

Nodding stiffly Dutch cleared his throat before turning to fully face Isaac. "It appears I owe you an apology, Mr. Morgan."

The boy felt electric as he looked to Arthur. Isaac's mouth gaped open, speechless to find an easy smile on his father's face and his eyes, soft, calm and kind. "I told you," Arthur said gently beneath the hooded shadow of his hat. "I know who you are. I don't need proof."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Out of curiosity, how many people figured out the blanket would be Isaacs's proof? If so, when? I had this planned before chapter two so it's been eating at me for a while. I suck at keeping secrets. For that reason, I'm glad this chapter is over.
> 
> I'm thinking about adding an epilogue. I haven't decided yet. (shrug) so there may be a chapter 14. Not sure yet.


	13. Chapter 13

Dutch put his arm around young Isaac as he led him out of the tent. "All right everyone!" he called "Gather round." He and Isacc stood on the wood deck of Dutche's tent as Dutch began the impromptu 'welcoming a new member into the gang' speech.

It was all a bit surreal for Arthur but he looked on proudly as Javier and Sean clapped especially loud, showing their support for Isaac. Lenny grinned broadly and his eyes twinkled as he looked at Arthur. In response, Arthur ducked his head and tipped his hat to hide his own wide smile.

John caught him and slapped his back good-naturedly. He mumbled something but Arthur was so overwhelmed, John's words never quite registered in his dazed mind.

It felt like cotton was stuffed in his ears as Uncle shook his hand and passed a celebratory whiskey his way.

When the singing began, Arthur found himself humming and even singing along. They were on the second verse of the Ballad of Odis Miller when Arthur noticed a familiar silhouette walking away from the festivities.

It felt wrong watching Charles leave. Charles who had done so much to help Isaac already. So without hesitation, Arthur padded over to him. "Don't know if anyone told you but we are celebrating tonight, Mr. Smith." He joked.

Charles didn't even look at him. Just stared straight ahead, monitoring the world beyond the camp's firelight. "Someone needs to keep watch."

"Sure but-"

"Go back to the party, Arthur." Charles commanded briskly, cutting him off. His tone was cold, clearly unamused by Arthurs's invitation.

Taken aback, Arthur frowned. "Ah, is everything alright?"

Arthur took careful note of how stiff Charles became at his words. Charles turned to glare at him, shook his head and walked off. Just as Arthur thaught the conversation was over he heard Charles whisper, his voice dripping with disgust. "you were going to leave."

"Well, I had to." Arthur protested. To him, it was the obvious answer, one he figured Charles already understood but apparently not. "I couldn't just leave him. I thought you would have supported my going with him."

Charles spun around, eyes flashing with anger. "You are a fool, Arthur Morgan." Charles growled.

Arthur flinched involuntarily, surprised at the venom behind the words.

Undeterred, Charles continued. "How much protection do you think you would have had if you went off on your own?"

Arthur returned his friend's glare with matched heat. "I would have done everything in my power to keep Isaac safe," Arthur spat, his own temper getting the better of him.

"And who was supposed to keep you safe?" Charles challenged, voice climbing in volume as he clutched the shotgun in his hands. "When the Pinkertons inevitably come breathing down your neck and you sacrifice yourself in exchange for sparing Isaacs's life... who was supposed to keep you safe then?" Charles shout carried over to the fire and several of the gang turned to casually listen in.

Arthur was stunned into silence and Charles's glare intensified, building with each second that Arthur left silent.

Slowly Charles shook his head, his eyes never leaving Arthur's bewildered expression but eventually, his anger drained, replaced by sadness. "I recognize your duty to your son. I respect that... but you never once considered there are those who would give anything to protect you. How could you leave without..." Charles broke off, shaking his head sadly. "Go back to the party," Charles said, sad and resigned. Without waiting for a response he turned to continue the night's patrol.

Arthur could only watch him leave. Confused and saddened by seeing Charles so distant.

***

A few days later and things still hadn't improved between him and Charles.

'I didn't want to leave you'. Arthur thought at Charles as he watched the man tend to one of the wagon wheels. 'Leaving the gang was nothing compared to the thought of leaving you behind'.

Arthur scowled to himself. 'No, that's not what he should say.' Frown deepening, Arthur had no idea what to say or how to make things better. He just wanted Charles back.

Arthur shivered as he pushed himself up from where he sat by the fire. As he passed Charles, he bid a gentle and hesitant good morning but received nothing but fridged silence in exchange. Arthur cringed as he contemplated the wall that had somehow formed between them.

It made him feel sick with worry as Charles suddenly became so closed off. For the most part, Charles still treated Arthur fairly, like any other gang member... but that was the problem. Arthur didn't want to be an acquaintance, he wanted to matter more because Charles mattered more to him than that.

But somehow that was broken, lost like a message in a bottle at sea.

All he knew is he needed space. Some time away to think things through, clear his head, and figure things out.

"How about you and I take a little trip?" Arthur offered, walking up behind Isaac as he chatted amicably with Tilly, Sean, and Karen.

"Sure pa." The boy agreed happily.

It was only mildly surprising to Arthur he didn't mind being called 'pa'. Sure, it wasn't what he was used to but the boy seemed hungry to call him that and Arthur welcomed the title almost as quickly as he had welcomed Isaac.

"Where to?" the boy asked, waving over his shoulder at Tilly and the others, tho Sean and Karen were too engrossed in a lover's quarrel to notice.

"Not sure," Arthur said tipping his cap to Tilly as they left. "How about we figure that out on the way."

They rode quietly, each to their own thoughts as they traveled. The sweet morning breeze and the clip-clop of horse feet below them, calming Arthurs worries considerably.

'Some time away from camp was just what he needed' Arthur thought as they reached the dusty trail and turned westward. They fell into a steady walking pace, both content to stroll lazily to their unknown destination.

"Pa?"

"Yes." Arthur smiled fondly as he responded so naturally to Isaac.

"Do you like Mr. Smith?"

Arthur tried not to choke as his lungs seemed to stop responding. "What makes you say that?" he ventured, holding the reins a bit tighter.

"I'm sheltered pa, not stupid."

"That's up for debate after you tried to rob the FIB and the Saint-Denis police station," Arthur muttered.

"You're changing the subject," Isaac pointed out boldly.

Arthur tried not to fidget under the steely assessing gaze of his son.

"You should have seen Charles worry when he thought you were leaving the gang." the boy said conversationally. "Almost turned the arrowhead he was working on into a toothpick."

Arthur said nothing, he just directed his horse forward a bit faster.

"Pa?" Isaac asked again, tho this time Arthur only bothered to reply with a gunt.

"I think he likes you too."

Tho Arthur tried his best to stifle it, he felt his heart break a little. He found himself looking down at his hands and remained quiet.

"Pa, I know you don't want to talk about it but it's hurting both of you." Isaac stopped his horse and turned directly towards Arthur. "I never wanted to cause any trouble."

"You didn't" Arthur tried to console but Isaac just shook his head.

"I don't know what exactly happened but pa, you need to say something or do something before you lose him forever."

Arthur looked up when he heard Isaac sniffle and was shocked to see his boy with tears in his eyes.

"Pa, if there's one thing I've learned from all this, it's that you need to tell the truth while you can. Ma thought she was doing right by me when she took me away from you but she was wrong. And maybe it wouldn't have changed anything but it never gave me or you the chance to choose for ourselves what we wanted to do." Isaac brushed his hand over his eyes, drying them, and when he looked up, the boy seemed to have grown 10 full years. His eyes seemed darker, richer and held a pearl of wisdom beyond his tender years. "Charles deserves to know how you feel so he can choose for himself what he wants to do."

"I don't know what it's worth to you Isaac," Arthur said seriously. "but I'm proud of you."

New tears appeared in Isaac's eyes but the boy laughed in response.

"You're a good man, Isaac," Arthur said as they moved further up the trail aimlessly.

They rode back into camp several hours later, just as Pearson announced the stew was ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this chapter ended up being waaaay longer than I was comfortable with so I split it in two. So this is part one. I'll post the other half when I feel it is ready. Then I have an epilogue and this is finally finished. I may do a one-shot part four but that's it. This series is finished.
> 
> Hope you have enjoyed it as much as I have. Also, Happy Holidays Everyone!


	14. Chapter 14

Arthur kept an eye on Charles as he dished up.

The big man kept his head down on his own food as he walked away from the entire gang, off to sit in the shadow of a tree on the grass. Charles was always an independent fellow but this felt different. It felt, lonely.

As Arthur approached he didn't bother to quiet his steps and Charles stiffened as he looked up and saw him.

"Mind if I sit?" Arthur asked, ignoring the reaction, and after a heartbeat Charles gestured to the grass beside him.

They ate for a while in uncomfortable silence.

Time stretching thin as Arthur found himself taking smaller and smaller bites just so he could sit with Charles a bit longer.

He shook his head at how cowardly he was being. As long as he kept quiet, Charles was already gone.

"I wanted you with me." He offered quietly, not looking up from his bowl. His words slipping into the inky darkness in front of them.

Charles remained quiet.

"I could have imagined leaving Dutch and Hosea, I was prepared to. But when I realized it meant leaving you, I didn't know how to accept that. I wanted you to come with me, but I couldn't... I... Charles, please say something." Arthur implored, beginning to lose hope his apology would ever be excepted. Fear sparked like a match and Arthur began to consider the possibility that he had ruined their relationship beyond repair. "I-"

"You never once asked." Charles said, his voice, deep and rich. Something broken lay hidden in the simple words but at least Charles was talking to him. "I understand your reasons for leaving. It is important for you to raise your son. I respect that but you never once asked if..." Charles trailed off.

Arthur looked up, shocked. "Are you saying you would have? you would have left Dutch and the gang?"

Charles met his gaze and nodded. "If you had asked, I would have gone with you."

Suddenly Arthur felt very tired. He blinked slowly and shook his head.

"I couldn't ask that of you. I couldn't ask you to put yourself at risk." Arthur whispered hopelessly.

Charles gripped his bowl and furrowed his brow in response. "How would I have been at greater risk with you? Especially anymore at risk than in a gang?" His tone was tight, angry, hurt.

"The gang gives you a chance to rest," Arthur explained. "we have a watch rotation so people can guard the camp while others rest, eat, and sleep. Not to mention it's far more risky traveling with someone who has a five thousand dollar bounty on their head without that kind of support. You have to constantly be on your toes, worried about being hunted by bounty hunters, Pinkertons, and every other kind of lawmen. On top of that there's the money shortage that inevitably happens with fewer people working and jobs become riskier without having someone to guard your back. You slip up one time and there's no one around to break you out of jail before you get the noose."

"You think I don't know that!?" Charles challenged, his voice rasing in anger and in an uncharacteristic show of rage, Charles threw the metal bowl as far as he could. "You think I didn't consider you being out there, virtually on your own? Hunted down, trapped, alone and desperate to save your son. Especially if it's at your own expense?"

Arthur tried to interject something but Charles barreled onward, one finger pointing accusingly at Arthur. "You, Hosea and Dutch continue to spout this nonsense about how the gang is a family but you never once asked us for HELP! A family goes both ways, Arthur!" Charles volume dropped abruptly till he hissed each word. "And I'm FURIOUS Dutch would have let you leave."

Arthur ducked his head in shame as Charles panted angerly into the night air. Charles was right. Even if it was for the right reasons, it was still incredibly dangerous. He should have asked for help but he didn't want to risk anyone, certainly not Charles.

Charles moved closer, interrupting his thoughts by gently lifting Arthur's chin so they made eye contact again. "I'm furious with you because you would have done it." this time his words were not just softer, but more tender. Growing quieter as he continued to speak. "You treat your own life as tho you are expendable, not caring how much you could matter to someone else." They had had this conversation before. It was a lesson Arthur never seemed to learn. And once more he had failed at the lesson of self-worth Charles tried to teach him.

Charles's thumb brushed gently against Arthur's jawline as he continued. "You are more than an enforcer, you're a father, and a gang leader. You have people who depend on you, who care about you, who need you, you're..." and without finishing, Charles leaned in and captured Arthur's lips with his own.

The kiss was gentle, warm and cautious at first. Charles plump lips massaging little gasps out of Arthur as the kiss gradually grew longer and Charles became bolder. Arthur felt a warm tongue press against the seam of his lips, asking for access. Without thinking, Arthur relaxed his jaw and coaxed the foreign tip to enter.

With a gasp of his own, Charles slipped his tongue in and surged forward, knocking Arthur flat against the earth with a grunt that morphed into a moan as warm hands trailed up Arthur's chest and got lost in his hair.

Charles pulled away and Arthur tried to chase after him but the hands that played with his hair held him back. Charles's eyes were dark with hunger as he panted above him. "How many times do I need to tell you?" Charles's voice was low and velvety smooth and as he spoke. Slowly, maintaining eye contact, Charles leaned down and pressed himself against the full length of Arthurs's body. Effectively pinning him to the dusty ground.

Arthur was helpless as Charles peppered his face and neck with teasing kisses. "You" kiss "are" kiss "wanted" kiss "needed" Charles gave a slow suck at the perfect juncture between his jaw and neck. The exposed and vulnerable pulse point was abused deliciously and Arthur leaned his head back and trembled against the onslaught lavished upon his neck. "you are loved." he whispered into his ear.

"Charles." Arthur groaned mindlessly under the fervent ministrations of the man above him.

"You never seem to understand how precious you are to others," Charles whispered, low and sad. He leaned back and allowed Arthur some space to catch his breath.

He gave Arthur one last lingering kiss and let his deft fingers tangle in the short hairs at Arthurs's neck before he pulled away completely. Leaving Arthur cold and desperate.

Arthur lay panting for several moments as his brain processed all that had just happened. "You, you love me?" Arthur said breathlessly, turning his head, trying to catch Charles eye.

"Yes." Charles said, looking down as he let out a humorless chuckle.

Arthur rolled over. His hand reaching up to tentatively cup along Charles's jaw and turned the man to fully face him. "I certainly am a fool."

Arthurs's fond smile dropped as he saw a tear slid from the corner of Charles's eyes. Arthur caught it with his thumb as it rolled down his cheek. "Charles." Arthur breathed the name and shook his head as he leaned towards the other man.

Their eyes locked and Arthur sat up straight and pulled Charles so he rested against him. Charles went willingly. Days of stress, exhaustion and worry taking their toll as Charles began to relax at Arthur's side. Arthur gently ran his hand up and down Charles back, soothing and caressing.

"Charles. I'm so sorry." a kiss brushed Charles's cheeks before Arthur continued. "I can be incredibly dense at times. Stupid when it comes to anything that really matters. I, I didn't even realize I was hurting you." Arthur softened his words with another kiss. "I just wanted to keep you safe."

"And I just wanted to do the same." Charles said, his dark eyes twinkling as he looked at Arthur.

Arthur smiled and shook his head. "I always knew I was a fool, I just didn't know how big of one until now."

"You're not a fool, Arthur, not really." Charles disagreed, leaning forward to kiss his cowboy once more. An action that was fast becoming addicting. This time the kiss was chaste and relatively quick. "Arthur, I know the life of an outlaw is short and dangerous but if you can't keep yourself safe for yourself, then do it for me and for Isaac. If you can't believe in yourself, then believe us. You are worth it, Arthur Morgan."

Arthur found himself nodding along to the imploring puppy dog eyes Charles was giving him. "I haven't said it Charles but I really care for you. Love you, actually." Arthur admitted, soft and serious. The words 'I know I ain't worth your tears' were on the tip of his tongue but Arthur caught himself. He needed to quit with the self-deprecating internal dialogue if he was ever going to become the person Charles and Isaac needed him to be. So instead he settled for saying "It may take time but if you'll have me..." but Arthur lost his confidence and trailed off mid-sentence tho Charles just smiled knowingly.

"Oh, Arthur," Charles said when Arthur didn't continue. Charles's warm hand reached up to gently brush a few stray hairs out of Arthur's eyes. "Someday you will learn just how much you are loved."

Without missing a beat, Arthur gave him a quick peck on the lips. "And someday, I will do the same for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is The End... well sorta, I have an Epilogue. But after THAT, this story and series is complete. I have really enjoyed writing for Isaac, Arthur and Charles. This is the longest story I've ever written and despite it's many issues, I'm happy with it. Hope you can say the same.


	15. Epilogue

**_***THREE YEARS LATER***_ **

Isaac looked down at his father's grave. An engraved wooden cross stuck in the ground surrounded by a ring of stones.

"They would have wanted to be buried next to each other." Isaac said sadly as Tilly came up behind him. She looked down and laced her fingers with his. They stayed quiet for a while, just looking at the two graves that shared a meaningful Bible verse.

**CHARLES SMITH**

_He will wipe away every tear from their eyes,_

_and death shall be no more,_

**ARTHUR MORGAN**

_neither shall there be mourning,_

_nor crying, nor pain anymore,_

__

_for the former things have passed away._

____

_Revelations 21:4_

____

"They would have loved it Isaac," Tilly comforted, leaning against him. "It's beautiful."

Isaac nodded saying nothing. Then he looked around to the other graves of the Van Der Linde gang. It made Isaac's heart ache to see the little field so filled of familiar names.

____

"It's just sad seeing all of them like this," Isaac said softly, adjusting his father's hat.

____

Tilly patted his arm. "come away Isaac, you'll feel better." He nodded and allowed himself to be pulled back to the little wagon where Sadie and Kieran waited.

____

The wagon creaked as Isaac slid into the front seat.

____

A few hours later they rolled into town to pick up some supplies. Isaac and Kieran headed for the general store with a list of provisions, already ordered and ready for pick up under the name Killgore.

____

As the store clerk gathered their things, Isaac perused the shelves like he was choosing a new horse. He stopped when he found what he was looking for. Honey sticks, the sticks were a beautiful sample of the colors honey came in, ranging from rich amber to sunny gold. He inspected each stick, looking for leaks and imperfections. He mulled over how many he should get. They had a long journey ahead so no less than five, or maybe a dozen? Finally, he just decided to take all of them.

____

The cashier was friendly, even left his counter to help them load their things in the wagon.

____

"Say," he said conversationally, hauling a bag of maze over his shoulder. "You hear about that big shipwreck out by Garma? Sank like a rock."

____

Isaac tried not to fidget and out of the corner of his eye he noticed Kieran stumble a little before catching himself. "um, n-no." the skittish horseman lied.

____

"Well, apparently it was filled with that outlaw gang, the Van Der Linds. All of um, dead. Can you believe it?"

____

"No, no I can't" was all Isaac could think to say.

____

"Apparently they were bound for someplace called Tahiti. Where ever that is. Well anyway, that's one less problem for people to worry about."

____

Isaac worked silently after that. Tho the store owner didn't seem to notice, he just prattled on endlessly about the local gossip. Isaac nodded and gave the occasional "yeah" and "no" when it seemed appropriate. When they were finished, he thanked the man for his help and sat in the wagon and waited quietly for the girls.

____

"You ok?" Kieran asked.

____

Truthfully Isaac felt a bit off-center. It was traumatizing seeing all those he cared about in a field. But he didn't know how to voice it. "I'll be ok," he said and Kieran offered him a warm smile.

____

Not long after that the girls came back, each with their arms full of supplies.

____

"Pain in the ass store clerk wanted to know if my husband approved of me buyin all this." Sadie griped. "Wish I cuda pistol-whipped him," she mumbled, earning a smile from Isaac as they moved out of town.

____

They traveled together for weeks, rolling along winding roads and watched as the leaves changed and fell. All the while knowing they still had miles and miles to go.

____

One particularly miserable night Isaac surprised Tilly with a bouche of honey sticks.

____

"Pa told me once you loved um. That you couldn't get enough." He said shily.

____

"yes, I do Isaac. Thank you." she said with a smile. Isaac blushed to his ears when she leaned in to give him a light peck on the cheek. "goodnight." she whispered as she turned and disappeared into the girl's tent.

____

Isaac was still smiling like a fool as he laid out his bedroll, readying for bed. If Kieran noticed his fixed stupid grin he was kind enough not to say anything.

____

That night Isaac was restless and got very little sleep. To many thoughts racing through his mind. But prepared or not, the light of dawn crept down through the tree branches in streams of golden light.

____

He yawned as he climbed into the wagon but Tilly grabbed the reins first. "Why don't you let me drive?" she said, and without waiting for a responce she flicked the straps and the wagon lurched forward.

____

It was another few weeks yet till they found themselves on the well-know roads leading home. Their long journey almost over.

____

Eventually, after months of travel, the rickety wagon rolled up to their farm.

____

"Welcome back." Hosea called from his place leaning against a tree, book propped open on his lap as he enjoyed the unusually warm autumn day.

____

"Yeah, it's good to be back." Isaac said smiling. Hosea got up and trailed after them as they drove the wagon to the front of the house.

____

"How'd it go?" Hosea asked, in his usual nonchalant worried way. "any troubles?"

____

Isaac laughed, "you sound like dad."

____

"who sounds like me?" Charles called as he walked out the front door onto the porch.

____

"Hosea, you both like to pretend you aren't worried when you are." Isaac said as he lept off the wagon and dashed up the steps to hug Charles. "You pretend nothing worries you but I think you both worry more than anyone I know."

____

"Little shit may be right about that." Sean said coming up behind Isaac carrying a sack of rice.

____

"Little?" Isaac protested, "I'm bigger and taller than you!" he called in mock anger.

____

"That's 'cause you're built like a brick shit house like your pa." The Irishman said laughing his way into the kitchen.

____

Shaking his head, Isaac turned back as Charles rested a hand on his shoulder. "You've had a long journey, why don't you go in and rest for a bit. We can handle the unloading."

____

"And miss seeing Harlin's foul?" Isaac scoffed, walking back to the cart. "Besides, Pa asked me to pick something up for him. You know where he is?" Isaac asked climbing up the side of the wagon to retrieve a small wrapped bundle from the front.

____

"Not sure." Charles admitted, scratching the back of his head.

____

"That's alright," Isaac called, waving the package as he ran off into the open field. "I'll find him. See you guys later."

____

Hosea sighed, "That boy gets more energy every day."

____

Charles smiled up at him as he lifted a barrel of unmarked supplies. "Was Arthur like at as his age?"

____

Hosea laughed, "I suppose we all were at one point."

***

Isaac watched as Lathlin pranced alongside her mother. Her rose golden revers dapple pattern shown vibrant and glossy in the rays of the high sun. Harlin snorted and munched away, indifferent to the show off foul.

____

Lathlin pranced like an expert dressage horse. Legs and neck high and proud, a spring in each innocent step. Isaac vowed then and their, that the horse would never know the fear of gunshots.

____

Isaac laughed as the foul approached him only to dart away again and hide behind the safety of her mother. The young horse then stuck her head out to see if Isaac and Harlin were still there.

____

"She is a beautiful animal." Dutch marveled softly, coming up behind him. "Looks just like her father."

____

Isaac nodded but said nothing.

____

"So, how was your trip?" Dutch said conversationally and perhaps a bit awkward. He held a book in his hands and casually dangled it over the old fence post as he leaned next to Isaac.

____

"Yeah, it was fine, uneventful," Isaac answered finally as he continued to watch the dancing foul as a long stretch of silence lapsed between them.

____

"Well, that's good. Did any of the Bell gang members survive the crash?"

____

Isaac shook his head. It had taken about as much money to buy and sink a boat as it did to buy the land they now lived off of. But filling the boat with greedy O'Driscolls and the last survivors of the Bell gang left they're conscious relatively clean. All the newspapers had picked up the story the following day. Frontpage on every paper. Bound for Tahiti, the notorious Van Der Lind gang had taken over a boat. The scuffle between the sailors and the gang had caused an explosion in the engine room. No survivors. The memorial graves just outside Roads only reinforced the ruse.

____

Isaac looked down at the fence post, thoughts turning to his mother and how faking her death had ultimately been the plan that saved the Van Der Linde gang. It was as if somehow, even from the grave, his mother was protecting him.

____

"Well, you've done good work, Isaac. Looks like we are in the clear."

____

Isaac nodded sadly before turning to look back at Dutch. The man looked over to him, not down at him.

____

Dutch looked unsure for a moment. Hesitant, as if trying to figure out what Isaac was thinking. But Isaac knew Dutch would never figure it out. Dutch valued loyalty and family but he never understood anything deeper than that. Something like Love. Isaac hated that he felt pity for the man.

____

"I've got something for Pa," Isaac said instead. "You know where he is?"

____

"Yeah, last I saw he was giving Jack swimming lessons down by the lake, with John." Isaac couldn't help but smile with Dutch.

____

"Isaac." Dutch called as he walked away. "I'm glad your back." he said.

____

Isaac turned to give him a bright genuine smile. In his own way, Dutch wasn't so bad. "Yeah, it's good to be back."

***

Isaac and Harlin trotted along the overgrown path out to the lake and from there, followed the shouts and splashes till he reached the two outlaws and teen boy. At first glance, it looked like Arthur was trying to save John from drowning, but after hearing him scream and Jack laughing, Isaac got the impression Arthur was actually trying to drown him.

____

"Just swim damn you, it ain't that hard." Arthur shouted above the noise of John's frantic splashing. "Kick with your feet! At the water dumbass, not me!"

____

Jack was doubled over in hysterics as Isaac dismounted.

____

"Quit flailing, move your arms!" Arthur continued his teachings.

____

"How can I stop flailing if you want me to move my arms?" John roared in frustration.

____

"Cause that ain't the same thing! I want you to push out at the water and then back in." after a few seconds the splashing quieted down some and John's expression changed from fearful to surprised and then to the excitement.

____

"It's working! I'm doing it!" he shouted.

____

"The hell you are." Arthur chastized. "I'm holding you up!" and to illustrate his point, he let John go.

____

The splashing immediately resumed and Arthur, frustrated and at the end of his rope, grabbed his brother and hauled him from the shallow lake.

____

John coughed and gasped on the bank as Jack and Isaac did their best to stifle their laughter.

____

"You're a bastard," John said between gasps.

____

"I ain't never pretended to be a saint." Arthur agreed, wringing out the tail of his wet shirt.

____

Arthur flopped in a soggy heap beside his brother and after a second consideration, he gave John a healthy slap on the back. "If it was any other person I'd say it was plum horrible attempt at swimming, but for you? I think you're getting close to learning the expert swimming stroke called the doggy paddle."

____

"Shudd up." John growled but without any heat. He opened his mouth to deliver a scathing response of his own when he noticed the newcomer. "Hey Isaac, you just get back?"

____

"Sure did." he said grinning at the brothers.

____

"Welcome back," Arthur said, tossing a towel none to gently to John. "How was your trip? They fall for it?"

____

"Hook line and sinker." He informed them. "It made every front page paper we could find. Um, you asked me to pick this up for you, Pa?" Isaac reminded, wagging the unmarked parcel before he casually handed it over.

____

Arthur made quick work of the bundle and soon held a small black leather box. Arthur opened it slowly to reveal a red velvet-lined cushion, and pillowed at its center was a beautiful golden Harmonica."

____

John let out a low whistle as he leaned over Arthur's shoulder to look at the elaborate instrument.

____

"Saw it is Strawberry years ago, wasn't able to get it at the time and someone else had already bought it before I could go back." Arthur explained, closing the lid with a snap. "I've been looking for it ever since."

____

"You gunna give that to Dad?" Isaac asked with a Cheshire grin.

____

"You gunna ask Tilly to marry you?" Arthur countered, smiling as Isaac's face flushed a deep cranberry red.

____

"Would, would you be my best man if I did?" He asked hesitantly and Arthurs smile dropped for a second before it grew into a wide grin.

____

"Of course Isaac."

____

Arthur's chest was tight as Isaac pulled out a ring and passed it around for everyone to see. John, Arthur, and even Jack offered little suggestions of how to pop the question. It was several hours later when they bid each other good night and wandered off to their own homes and rooms.

***

When Arthur arrived home, he found Charles had evidently fallen asleep reading on their bed. The soft puffs of breath drew a smile from the cowboy as he carefully leaned over the slumbering man and preceded to gently pluck the open book from Charles's limp hand.

____

Toeing off his boots, Arthur slowly crept behind his outlawfully wedded husband, cocooning him in a soft warm hug of a big spoon. Arthur was careful not to jostle the bed as he eased into place.

____

Once settled, Arthur nudged the small leather box into Charles's slackened grasp, replacing where the book had been. Feeling quite pleased with himself, Arthur smiled before nestling his fact down in the pillow of Charles's glossy black hair.

____

He was teetering on the edge of sleep when Charles mumbled something.

____

"Wha?" He asked disoriented and sluggish.

____

Charles hummed in response and lazily stretched his back before twisting in Arthurs's arms to face him.

____

Arthur closed his eyes as warm lips pressed against his.

____

"I tried to wait up for you but I guess I fell asleep," Charles admitted sleepily.

____

This time Arthur answered with a hum of his own. "That's just the way it is sometimes." Arthur murmured softly, brushing a few strands of stray hairs from his lover's eyes. Thinking back on what kept him, Arthur found himself smiling.

____

"What?" Charles asked curiously, stroking the back of Arthurs's neck in the way that left him purring like a cat.

____

"Isaac is going to propose to Tilly." Preening like the proud father he was.

____

"Darn," Charles growled, surprising Arthur. "If he had asked on the trip I would have won 50 bucks off Sadie." Arthur chuckled, brushing Charles's head as he continued. "Tho, Reverand Swanson will be pleased we're having another wedding. What's that now, four or five?"

____

Arthur yawned "five" as Charles rolled further towards him and nuzzled into his neck.

____

Sighing in frustration Charles sat up. "hold on, something keeps poking me." Charles stuck his hands under the covers, waving around, fished for whatever was there. Eventually, he withdrew a small black box that must have slipped under Charles as he tossed and turned in an attempt to get himself situated in a more comfortable position.

____

"Care to explain this?" Charles said, lifting the box and catching Arthurs's mischievous smile.

____

"It's for you." Arthur said with a dopey grin.

____

Charles laughed, "I figured that, but what's it for?"

____

Gentle fingers stroked feather-light touches along Charles's arm as Arthur thought. "Well, when I first saw it, it made me think of you. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to get it. I thought it was gone for good but I took a chance and put an ad in the paper. By some miracle, I got a response from the gentleman who originally bought it. And it turns out he was willing to sell it. So when Isaac was out east to fake our deaths, I asked him to pick it up for me."

____

Charles examined the mysterious leather box until Arthur nudged him impatiently. "Well, open it."

____

The finely made box slowly clapped open and Charles jaw dropped as he took in the expertly made harmonica. Solid gold engraved with ribbons and leaves, cartwheeling around the entire surface with tightly intricate designs. The handle was detailed with a similar curled leaf/ribbon pattern of dark abalone and rainbow mother of peril inlay. It was breathtaking.

____

"Arthur." Charles whispered, reverently brushing his fingers along the glossy metal.

____

"You always say you want me to understand how precious I am to you, well, this is just a small token of it but I want you to know the same."

____

Charles leaned over and with his empty hand, pulled Arthur up by his collar for a heated kiss. Arthur smiled at Charles's enthusiasm.

____

"So I take it you like it?" he joked as they parted.

____

"Very much," Charles said, lifting the instrument to his kiss swollen lips and Arthur couldn't look away as Charles began to play a gentle lullaby. The tone was low and rhythmic, floating through the air, smooth and rich like warm dark chocolate. Kissing his husband's shoulder, Arthur began to sing along.

____

_"The many miles we walked_

____

_The many things we learn_

____

_The building of the shrine_

____

_Only just to burn_

____

_That's the way it is_

____

_That's the way it is_

____

_May the wind be at your back_

____

_Good fortunes at your hands_

____

_May the cards layout a straight_

____

_All from your commands_

____

_That's the way it is_

____

_That's the way it is._

____

_That's the way it is_

____

_That's the way it is."_

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thank you to everyone who has read this little story and or series. It started out as a one-shot and now (if you include the entire series as a whole) it's around 45,000 words. For comparison sake, 60,000 to 80,000 is the average target word count range for novels. So this little project of mine is almost the length of a published book.
> 
> Also, special thank you to Angelicasdean for reading and commenting. You definitely kept me motivated to finish and helped remind me of plot points I may have forgotten about. It was amazingly invaluable having you reading and commenting. So, thank you, seriously... thank you.
> 
> In closing, I hope this is a satisfying ending to the series. It was certainly a labor of love for me. (Tho it still has a lot of editing yet to do.) That said, I will be going to school next fall so I probably won't be doing a crap ton of wrighting/editing after that and I'd like to take a break sometime before school starts. **BUT** you will be hearing from me again. I'm going to school for Equine Management/Equine Science. So it's safe to say I'll be in this fandom for the long haul. Who knows what RDR2 plot ideas I will get from my classes. (let's be honest, I'll have several the first day)
> 
> I hope you all have enjoyed this story/series and if you did, I'd really love to hear from you. Comments are always welcome.
> 
> Now, ON TO THE NEXT!


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